Somewhere Only We Know
by MarblePlum
Summary: Max and Naomi battle the insecurities in themselves and in their relationship, while Adrianna battles for redemption with the help of an unexpected source.
1. Chapter 1

**Somewhere Only We Know**

**Greetings! Alright, so the lovely Maxomi fans asked me to do a fic starring one of our favorite pairings, Naomi Clark and Max Miller. I'm more than happy to oblige. This takes place in the fall of their freshmen years at California University (Naomi) and CalTech (Max). Max has convinced his parents to let him try out CalTech for a semester but his parents are not happy with the decision and that includes the catalyst for the decision (Naomi). Meanwhile, Naomi is struggling to keep up her grades and keep her social life in order. **

**The main characters and some guest characters are included in the fic, so if a season 3 plot you remember is included, it's because it's tied to this story as well. I've decided to eliminate the "Naomi is pregnant" storyline.**

**Okay, so before I talk about this next subplot, please know that I love Navid/Adrianna and don't mind Lannie really. However, the UC possibilities of Liam/Adrianna intrigue me immensely, especially since I hear that there's some interaction this season. A couple people asked me to do a L/A subplot that's more comic and over-the-top so that's here too. Liam and Ade are extra...well, let's just say they're not the sharpest tools in the box. It's all meant in good fun and turned up to ten. Maxomi's plot is much more standard. The first couple chapters have a little serious "Lade" and then Adrianna is eventually forgiven as she and Naomi become friends. So please no Lade bashing if you're not interested in seeing Liam with her or don't like Adrianna as a character. It's all fiction and it's all fun, right? :) **

**Max and Liam's POVs start in chapter 2. Ladies first. :) Hope you enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated.**

**Love You Like A Love Song is the property of Selena Gomez.**

**You Found Me is the property of The Fray.**

In college, you can be one of either three things: a guppy, a piranha, or a shark. This is the only nugget of wisdom dispensed to Naomi Clark before her arrival at California University and it was delivered by her sister Jen pre-massage. A guppy is a follower, following the tide, not making huge waves, blending in with the current. A piranha has a voracious appetite, trying out various things, then eagerly chomping down on something they like. A shark rules the water, intimidating others with its carriage, a sly and thirsty animal ready for whatever comes their way. Of course, her boyfriend Max Miller explained all of these facts to her in one of his offhand lectures but Naomi totally kept up with the biological explanations Max gave to go with Jen's advice. She's good like that.

Whatever the case, Naomi is determined to be a shark. She was a top dog in high school and she doesn't see why she can't be a top dog in college. Sure, there are more people, and her clique isn't as close as they once were, but she thrived in new social situations. They didn't elect her Homecoming queen and prom queen for nothing. With this strictly on her mind, Naomi walks confidently across the CU quad in her red Jimmy Choo pumps. She got into CU, thanks to her grades and Max's support, and today she's getting into the toughest circle at the university- the Homecoming court. Her mother and Jen were in their classes' courts and she'd like to keep up the tradition. Nobody is standing in her way.

"Naomi!" greets Erin Silver, popping up in front of her.

"Ugh, you ruined my strut," sighs Naomi. "It was slow-motion worthy. But if you must..."

"Slow-motion walks are cheesy," waves off Silver. "Guess what? I just found out I'm going to be treasurer for the Film Society!"

"You don't get paid for that, do you?" says Naomi.

Silver's face falls.

"I mean, yay!" says Naomi, with a forced smile. "The Film Society is...greeeeat."

"They're relatively new. Have you signed up for any clubs?" says Silver.

"Well, I was kind of meandering to the Homecoming court table," says Naomi. "Most of us Greeks usually give it a run."

Nodding absent-mindedly, Silver appears as interested in Naomi's sorority life as Naomi was in her Film Society. Best friends don't have to like the same things, and they've been content with that for a number of years. Unfortunately, someone who's far from a best friend is interrupting Naomi's stroll as well.

"Naomi, Erin!" greets Harper Davies.

Silver gives Harper the side-eye for being called by her first name while Naomi maintains her fake enthusiastic smile.

"No hard feelings if I make the court over you guys," says Harper. "I'm more college Homecoming princess material. They prize brains over beauty, even though I'm not lacking in either. Plus I happen to have a lot of sway in the Student Council, on the campus newpaper, on the campus radio station, in the Recycling Club, among the Pepsi Scholarship recepients, in the Dart Club..."

Naomi wonders if Harper drank a dozen bottles of Pepsi while Silver steps behind Harper, miming that she wants to throw a dart at her. This girl would not shut up. Thankfully, someone at the Homecoming Court table is waving Naomi over.

"I gotta go," says Naomi.

"That's hunky dorey," assures Harper. "I can tell Erin all about blondes statistically doing a better job at securing Homecoming votes. It's quite a funny coincidence."

"Why," mouths Silver as Harper takes her arm.

She will be forever grateful to Mandy Peeples for rescuing her from Harper's calculations. She doesn't mind hearing Max discuss math, because it's undeniably adorable, and he's so confident yet modest about his intelligence, including being valedictorian. Harper came in fourth in the class but she acts like she'd made the valedictory speech. What a rush that was, the whole day still firmly set in her mind. Max admitted that he was responsible for the altered essay to the entire school. Heads with caps turned. Gowns shuffled. Naomi's jaw dropped. The guts that took, the romance of the scene, and the unpredictability of the act overwhelmed her. She wasn't really sure it was real until Max's lips were pressed on hers afterwards. However, they're dealing with the fallout of his beautiful act. Naomi instinctively stares at her watch. Max would be leaving class at Cal Tech right about now. He could be at M.I.T. or Princeton or some other school on the East Coast that collected nerds like Beanie Babies. That he sacrificed so much to be with her meant the world to her. But wouldn't it mean more to Max to be at his dream school? He always avoided the question when she brought it up as if it were some forbidden secret he couldn't discuss or get a handle on. Naomi hopes they can handle all of this.

Mandy, her auburn ponytail swaying, shakes hands with Naomi as soon as she reaches the table. The Homecoming table is very colorful and exciting, with yearbooks on display, garlands of roses running across bright banners, a tiara on a velvet pillow, and a gold scepter resting on a small base.

"You get a scepter!" cries Naomi in shock. "I mean, nice tiara."

"Of course you get a scepter," laughs Mandy. "This isn't high school anymore."

"I already perfected my wave," says Naomi, doing her half-closed, newly manicured hand version. "It's already being copied by the West Bev class of 2015."

"That's the kind of spunk we're looking for," says Mandy.

"I'm ready to spunkily scrawl my name on the sign-up sheet," says Naomi, holding out her hand. "If I won this, my mom would pull a Kris Jenner and have a reality TV show camera crew taping her crowned daughter in the parade for a special."

Mandy beams. "Fingers crossed."

"Maybe after my nails dry," says Naomi.

Naomi starts to sign her name at the end of page one...no, two...no, three. Wow. Homecoming is no joke here. Okay, there are a lot of people who want to be sharks. She's not about to swim in retreat, though. She signs away, dotting the "i" in her name with a grin.

Suddenly, her cell rings. The anthem of _Avatar_, Leona Lewis' "I See You" which she will be forever fond of, plays. She immediately answers.

"Booty call!" says Naomi as she wanders from the table.

"Stop," says Max with a slight chuckle. "So did the football players faint when you went up to the Homecoming table?"

"Yeah, they're bringing in the paramedics as we speak," replies Naomi.

"I wouldn't want you to miss the excitement," kids Max. "Although, I do have some exciting news."

"You got into Menstrual!" cries Naomi gleefully.

"No, and ewww, it's Mensa," says Max.

"Oops, that's what I meant," says Naomi.

"But you are on the right track," insists Max. "I got into...Alpha Lambda Delta."

"Is that a frat or does that have to do with Delta Airlines?" says Naomi, scratching her nose. "Oh wait. Silver mentioned that club once..."

"It's a very old honors society, fairly prestigious," explains Max. "They very rarely invite freshmen in the first semester but I did do those summer courses so I guess...well, I'm not sure why they want me...I'm being inducted with a couple transfer students."

"Of course they want you!" insists Naomi. "Just like I do."

"Thanks," says Max shyly.

"We have to celebrate!" says Naomi. "Table for two at the Ivy? My treat."

"Actually, I called to ask you to come to dinner," says Max.

"Umm...let me think about it," teases Naomi. "No, duh, I'll come, you brawny brainiac."

"You may want to think about it longer because...dinner will be with my...," stammers Max.

No, not the P-word. Anything but the p-word.

"Please say your optometrist," breathes Naomi into the phone.

"My parents," provides Max.

The last time Naomi saw the Millers they were in their seats at graduation, silently seething and squirming in their chairs. They were visibily upset that Max redid her paper, got suspended, and that he'd mentioned Cal Tech to them. God only knows how they're feeling with Max's decision to attend CalTech full-time. Break out the whips for her, and for once, Naomi's not thinking of the sexy things you could do with them.

"Excellent," says Naomi. "They get to dine with the ditz that jacked up their genius son's future."

"Not true in the slightest," comforts Max. "Can you meet me at Larry's Laundromat on Vine? I'm coming home for the weekend."

"Laundromat?" balks Naomi.

"Yeah," says Max saucily. "We both know how dirty you can get."

"Do you kiss your preschool teacher mother with that mouth?" returns Naomi.

"I'd rather be kissing yours," replies Max. "Seven?"

"I'll be the one waiting to get it on on the washing machines," says Naomi.

"Oh, behave," says Max in a dorky Austin Powers accent.

"No," says Naomi, giving the tiara a last look before hanging up.

II.

Adrianna Tate-Duncan scans through her Rolodex, searching for a familiar number. Dr. Carolyn Schwartz vowed that she'd be on call whenever, for whatever. Her prescription is safely tucked into her purple purse. Her purse shakes next to her trembling body and she prays it might be different after she gets her pills and the meds slide down her throat. Taking a seat on the granite wall of a flimsy sculpture garden, Adrianna dials Dr. Schwartz.

"Hello?" says a throaty voice on the other end.

"Hello? Dr. Schwartz?" says Adrianna.

"Adrianna," identifies Dr. Schwartz. "It's nice to hear from you. Is something the matter?"

"I'm going...today," shares Adrianna. "Like we talked about. Both of them should be here. Or I'll ask when they're available."

"I'm proud of you...it takes a lot of courage," says Dr. Schwartz.

"I'll be like the Tin Man," asserts Adrianna.

"No, Adrianna," says Dr. Schwartz. "The lion is the one who's connected to finding courage."

"Dr. Schwartz, you may be an expert on psychology, but I'm an expert in movies," says Adrianna. "The Tin Man was always courageous and the lion was scared all the time until the end. He called himself a sissy, I remember."

"Good Lord," sighs Dr. Schwartz. "Well, good luck."

Adrianna folds her phone with a satisfied smile, that immediately becomes a frown as she reads the words above the front door. Shirazi Studios. Last year, Navid was none too keen on her showing up to score a cameo in the Nelly video. He said horrible things, things he never took back. She wouldn't be surprised if he slammed the door in her face or called security on her. And I'm little so they could totally ruin my shoes if they throw me in the dumpster, thinks Adrianna in horror. She's been trashed by her friends and the media enough. Yet Dr. Schwartz insisted that Adrianna couldn't truly move on until she attempted to make peace with them and more importantly herself. Ripping off Javier, using Maisy, switching Silver's pills. These weren't small crimes. Dr. Schwartz finally determined the reason a month into their sessions- narcissistic personality disorder. Suddenly it made sense as to why she let the drive for power and prestige take over everything else including her first true love. She couldn't and wouldn't solely blame her disorder for her actions yet it soothed her into believing she wasn't a vile monster. Now she only has to keep up with her medications and therapy sessions, making the most of this new aspect of her life.

This is the first moment for her to take advantage of her new knowledge, to not be _that_ person. Adrianna pushes through the glass doors of the studio, approaching the front desk where a young Persian woman, around eighteen, is surfing the Internet while popping gum.

"Hi, my name is Adrianna...," begins Adrianna.

"Yeah, I'm not the secretary," waves off the woman. "Checking my e-mail real quick. If you're looking for my cousin, he's in his office."

Right. Adrianna approaches the elevator, waiting for it to come down. She notices that there's less security and less employees walking the halls. The atmosphere is certainly not the same. Navid's studio used to be buzzing with energy. Now it's like the building is yawning. If buildings could yawn, adds Adrianna inwardly. She boards the elevator. Two men in sharp suits join her when the elevator reaches the second floor.

"Mmmm, we're in a music video production company, and no elevator music," jokes the taller of the two. "I love that corny stuff."

"Doesn't give me much faith in booking our artists in this trap," kids the other.

"_I...I...love you like a love song, baby_," sings Adrianna. "_I...I love you like a love song, baby. I...I love you like a love song, baby. And I keep hittin' repeat-peat-peat-peat-peat-peat_."

The two men stare at her awkwardly, say nothing when they exit the elevator on the fourth floor.

"They said they liked music," pouts Adrianna as the doors close after them.

Adrianna leaves the elevator, starts down the hall when it opens on the sixth floor. Once she reaches the middle of the hallway, she can hear crunching and then munching, crunching and then munching. Navid's door is open a slit. She peers inside. Navid's pet Bernstein snatches for another piece of gourmet lettuce as his owner holds him lovingly. Then Berstein releases a trail of drool that sticks to the buttons of Navid's left sleeve. Gagging, Navid situates him into his glass cage, complete with a water dish, a sand pit, and a stuffed Geico Gecko with green sunglasses. A ticked Bernstein head-butts the side of the cage.

"Hey!" chastises Navid. "You better stay in there or I'll..."

Tenderly knocking, Adrianna pops her head into the room. Navid sits up straight in his chair with a frown. Adrianna curses herself for being attracted to his neatly cut dark hair, his smooth skin, and that adorable nose she made it a habit to kiss. She almost feels like she's not allowed to be attracted to him anymore.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you feeding your baby dragon...," begins Adrianna.

"It's an iguana, Ade," interrupts Navid sarcastically. "Herbivorous genus."

"I thought dinosaurs went extinct," mulls Adrianna before launching back into the conversation. "Could we talk for a few minutes? I promise to go right after we do."

"Not a good idea," says Navid. "Silver's waiting for me and we're going to lunch soon."

"I could treat you guys to lunch," suggests Adrianna. "Bring your dragon."

"Look, maybe you should go," says Navid, standing.

Adrianna watches him scurry out of the room, like she has the plague, like she's disgusting. Where was the Navid who used to love to be with her, who made living with her after he proposed seem like an easy choice? Hanging her head, Adrianna replays the chat she just had with Dr. Schwartz. She can summon up courage if this is the right to do and every bone in her body is saying that this is the right time and the right place. Jogging out of the office, she catches Navid's form ducking into an elevator.

"Navid!" she calls.

The doors close too fast for her to tell him to stop. The stairs, thinks Adrianna. She throws the doors to the stairs open, hurtling down them, two at a time. Pain shoots up her legs, and she's sure her feet will be aching tonight, but she doesn't care. Adrianna comes to the bottom, pushing herself out of a back door, decking her face in sunlight. Her feet stall as she stands in the rear of the parking lot to view a familiar vehicle. Silver is in the passenger seat of Navid's car, her eyes narrowed in Adrianna's direction. Adrianna takes a few steps toward her.

"Go home, Ade," says a wounded voice to her right. "Go home and save yourself some pain."

Navid's voice stays in the air, and the memory of what he's said, as he joins Silver in the car, cuts her in two. To them, she's done. She's done ruining their lives. Any hope of repaired relationships is done. Silver fusses with her shoulder-length hair while a blank look crosses her face. The car speeds off. Though Adrianna stands in the sunlight, its rays prickling her skin, she might as well be standing in ice. The aftermath of Silver's apparent anger practically freezes her to the pavement, which is hard, dark, and through Adrianna's tearful eyes, cloudy and ongoing.

III.

Locking her BMW, twice, Naomi whirls around to take in the surroundings of Larry's Laundromat. She's none too thrilled. Rusty playground equipment stretches across a nearby park while the Chinese take-out place next door has a greasy guy sleeping in a bowl of shrimp fried rice. Here's hoping the interior is better. It's not, thinks Naomi, as she steps into the muggy air of the business. Abandoned socks are strewn on the floor. Open containers of detergent give off a scent that's a mix between toothpaste and the beach. She can't even describe the bodily funk travelling throughout the room.

"Stinkin' fabric softener bear making you believe doing laundry is a beautiful thing," groans Naomi. "Ugh."

She lifts her left Jimmy Choo to find a dryer sheet sticking there.

"Why do bad things happen to good shoes?" pouts Naomi.

Managing to detach the dryer sheet, Naomi goes further into the laundromat, hunting for her hot geek amid all the hot machines with swirling clothes.

"Oh my Arm and Hammer," says a fortysomething guy appreciatively.

"Not even," dismisses Naomi.

The guy goes back to folding his _Green Lantern _pajama bottoms.

She finally locates Max, who's counting and sorting change at a washing machine near the vending machines. With a bright grin, Naomi arrives at a spot inches from him and crosses her arms.

"Are you aware of the smells I had up my nose to get here?" teases Naomi.

"Are you aware that I missed you?" replies Max genuinely.

They embrace without any other pleasantries, Naomi holding his cheeks as she kisses him passionately. She swears...they could be apart for weeks and it's like they never left each other. Her jaw even hurts a little because their kiss is so forceful but it's a pain she definitely encourages. She pulls away to rub away her lipstick, Max helping her with a couple swipes. His shining chocolate-brown eyes would only be on her if she had the power and his attractive, clean-cut face should only be marred for a little while. He can't carry off Chanel lipstick forever.

"I assume you're nervous," says Max after a deep breath.

"I'm buggin' a bit," admits Naomi. "I was going to do yoga, but then I thought of Guru Sona and wanted to do Mau Thai kickboxing instead."

"Hey, I'd be willing to hold your purse for that," jokes Max.

"A real man can carry a purse," asserts Naomi.

Max scoops quarters into his hand and heads for a dryer. He slides in the coins and adjusts the settings.

"Why don't you send your stuff out?" asks Naomi. "And you totally left your pennies out in the open. Don't get me wrong, pennies are paltry, but a penny saved is a penny earned."

"Relax, Naomi," says Max, hitting the button. "Nobody has swiped them in all the years I've been coming."

"How long have you been coming here exactly?" says Naomi.

"A couple years," confesses Max. "But I'd rather do my own laundry. For the same reason I moved into the dorms, bought a used car, got a part-time job for the computer department...I like being independent."

"I know you like being independent," says Naomi. "I just don't know why you can't call the laundry service once in a blue moon."

"I'd prefer to call formerly blue girls," says Max.

"Can't knock you for that," says Naomi, leaning in for another kiss. "Okay, is Melanie coming to the dinner?"

Melanie Miller, Max's sixteen-year old sister, contacted Naomi via Facebook and she was pretty sweet. She could possibly be the sole Miller that won't shoot her death glares during dinner.

"She insisted," assures Max. "We're two peas in a pod. Don't worry about her."

"I'm worried about the other two," says Naomi. "Max, this is a big deal. Your parents? They might think I'm just some CU bimbo that busted your chances for Ivy League immortality."

"First, M.I.T. isn't an Ivy League institution," says Max, tenderly taking Naomi's shoulders. "Secondly, I was very clear-headed when I chose CalTech. Lastly, I was very clear and am still very clear that there's no other girl I want to meet my parents more than you."

"Awww," says Naomi.

She hugs him, her nose grazing the top of his Old Navy cotton shirt. She should really get him another one. Nah, she tells herself. Nah. It doesn't matter. He looks as good to her as she does to him.

"I'm sure they know there are intelligent people at CU, yourself included," says Max.

Naomi taps his shoulder, pointing to a guy in a CU sweatshirt stumbling into the laundromat. A friend trails him, laughing as he roughly opens a washing machine and turns the dial to rinse.

"Ah," groans the stumbling guy as he sticks his head in the washing machine.

"Oh yeah, there's some regular Isaac Screwtons in this set," waves off Naomi, rolling her eyes.

The guy appears more stoned than stupid, based on her observations.

"What...what are you doing?" stammers Max.

"My buddy bet me that I couldn't wash my hair in here," says the guy, sticking his head further inside. "Mmmm, somebody put in a blanket."

"Don't do that!" cautions Max, grabbing the guy by the shirt and steering him out of the laundromat.

"Whose pennies are these?" says the guy's friend, also stoned.

"Hey," says Naomi, lightly smacking his hand. "Don't touch those."

IV.

Her toes pinching in the tight stillettos covering her feet as she crosses the sand, Adrianna glances up from _The Pennysaver _on her Smartphone to the beach bar conveniently located between the pier and a swanky hotel. She knows the economy is hurting, but this? This? Well, she's hurting too, especially after she left the parking lot. She recalls the bittersweet expression on Navid's face as he got into his car, sliding in next to a stone-faced Silver in the passenger seat. Did they hate her that much? Did he hate her that much? She's done everything she can do in regards to them for right now, and now she has to do something for herself, even if it involves fake coconuts.

Cheerful, bouncy music blares over the speakers, Adrianna certain that she recognizes the tune from somewhere.

_In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room_  
><em>In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room<em>

_All the birds sing words and the flowers croon_  
><em>In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room<em>  
><em>Welcome to our tropical hideaway, you lucky people you!<em>  
><em>If we weren't in the show starting right away,<em>  
><em>We'd be in the audience too<em>  
><em>All together!<em>

Disney? Yes, it's Disney. This must be a unreleased track from Miley Cyrus' last album, only they've autotuned her voice so much that she sounds like a male with a Caribbean accent. Boy, the things they can do in the studio these days. But she has to focus on what she came here to do.

"Passion for part-time waitressing, you are officially turned on," says Adrianna to herself. "Knock 'em dead, Ade."

Though the bar is small, it's decorated quite nicely like a hut you'd find in a Hawaiian hideaway. Artificial palm leaves act as the awning, with bamboo stalks supporting the structure on the sides. Straws are housed in small clay holders/coconuts with tribal faces, while tiny umbrellas for drinks sit in a jar with a voodoo doll seated around the opening. Silver would probably love to do voodoo on her. Ugh, she has no chance if she's thinking of that during her job search, so it's time to buck up and make a good impression.

Adrianna tucks her resume into her Snoop Dogg folder and approaches the cash register. A hand hits the register hard. The drawer flies open, hitting the cashier squarely in the chest.

"Owwww, my pecs!" cries Liam. "At least there's a dollar in here."

Wait. Liam? Liam Court? Great, a guy who saw her get roasted in front of dozens of people is the one who might hire her. That was an awful night for her, Adrianna remembering all of the looks on their faces distinctly: Naomi, drunk but disgusted; Annie, appalled with crossed arms; Dixon and Liam, open-mouthed; Navid, clueless and then rightfully betrayed; Raj and Ivy, sharing shocked stares; Silver, angry, accusatory; Terry the stripper, waiting to be paid. When Naomi told her to leave, Adrianna knew it was an instruction not only to leave the room, but to leave their lives. They all hated her and most likely would never forgive her. She should've known what was coming. Pills always lead to heartache for her, particularly then. She hated what she did, and it almost didn't seem like her in hindsight. It's just that she felt so lost without her career, without Navid, and following Javier's death, without her moral compass. She definitely has her morals back but what good are they if nobody's willing to give her the opportunity to show them?

"This might be the last opportunity," breathes Adrianna.

Okay, the worst thing Liam can say is no, and she's heard "no" plenty of times the past few months. Emphasis on _past_. Adrianna nods, sighs deeply, and goes right up to the counter. Liam is fiddling with the register, seemingly amused by the drawer going in and out.

"Excuse me?" says Adrianna.

Liam looks up at her, squinting at her with interest.

"I'm...I'm here about the job," says Adrianna. "Is this a good time?"

"Uhhh," says Liam, glancing around and finally resting his eyes on her. "Yeah."

"If you want me to go...," starts Adrianna.

"Nobody else has come today," interjects Liam. "Let me see your resume."

Adrianna removes her resume from the folder.

"Sweet folder," compliments Liam. "I love some Snoop."

"Thanks," says Adrianna. "You know Dixon met and rapped with him, right?"

"And he didn't get me an intro," sighs Liam, flipping through her resume. "_Snoop Doggy Doo-oooww-oggg. Snoop Doggy Doo-oooww-ogg. Get that doowwn. Yeah, yeah, yeah, owwww. Boowowowow yippyyo yippiyyay. Snoop Dogg definitely in the hoooouse._"

She grins. Liam stops singing to read a few lines near the end.

"Okay, you have no customer service experience," says Liam. "You've got five lines of space between each sentence. You spelled West Bev wrong and didn't put that it was a high school. The whole resume's in pink ink..."

"Cute, huh?" says Adrianna. "And I needed the resume to look...like bigger."

"Miss Adrianna Tate-Duncan," reads Liam with pleasure. "You spelled resume right. R-E-S-U-M-A-Y. What's a thespian?"

"Either it means I was bicurious, or an actress...I don't remember," answers Adrianna.

"Intrigued," admits Liam. "I also like that you got your G.E.D. which stands for Get Education Done, if I'm not mistaken?"

"You're smart," says Adrianna.

"I don't like that Joe Jonas is one of your references," says Liam.

"Shoot," says Adrianna, snapping her fingers. "That's my most impressive contact."

"Come sit down and I'll ask you some questions," offers Liam.

Tucking in her green Tom Ford skirt, she stumbles to climb onto the stool in her stillettos. Fashion will have to be sacrificed to finagle a job out of this guy, although it's more than worth it if it works.

"Do you eat food?" asks Liam.

"I kinda have to...sometimes," replies Adrianna. "Why, do you think I need to diet?"

"No, I just wanted to know," assures Liam. "Can you bake cookies or make microwave popcorn?"

"I can use a microwave if the instructions are nearby and not in Spanish," says Adrianna.

"Excellent," says Liam. "Those were the hardest questions I've ever asked and nobody's said the right answers so far. They were saying "you don't need a microwave because you don't serve food here'. I was like, think beyond the box, people. True, we only serve drinks currently, but we do serve pretzels and nuts. You can't eat the nuts. That's important so write it down."

Adrianna hurriedly fetches her vintage _Moesha_ notepad and matching Brandy Norwood pencil.

"No nuts," says Adrianna, writing it on her pad.

"Alright, I'll call you," says Liam with a wide smile.

Call her? That's a total brush-off, basically. It sounded as if he was interested, and she got most of the questions correct, right? Eh, what a waste of five minutes. Adrianna frowns, getting off the stool and heading to the pier. She might as well stare out into the ocean, might as well look out at nothing, because that's where her life is headed...nowhere. Maybe she could go to community college for a couple years. Her mom would pay for that. In fact, it was the option her mother gave her right after she passed her G.E.D. Yet Adrianna thought it'd be best if she did things on her own. Best for who? The other girl that Liam is going to hire?

Her feet pound the planks of the pier. She rests them, sitting on the side, peering at the rocky surface. A couple of her tears join the brackish water. Her charm bracelet from Navid glints in the sun. She can see the reflection of the bracelet, fuzzy at first, and then becoming distinct. Why did she still have it on? Stupid question. A few feet away, a couple dances to a portable stereo, having just left a boat parked next to the pier. The blonde man in cargo shorts and the redhead in an orange and gold sarong are alternately kissing and swaying to the music. This song Adrianna can identify right off the bat. This song always made her identify the guy she loved most, her first love. Navid.

_I found God_  
><em>On the corner of First and Amistad<em>  
><em>Where the west<em>  
><em>Was all but won<em>  
><em>All alone<em>  
><em>Smoking his last cigarette<em>  
><em>I said, "Where you been?"<em>  
><em>He said, "Ask anything".<em>

Navid, who asked her to marry him, with the engagement ring he sold his ipod for. Navid, who paid for her rehab without her having any knowledge about what he was doing. Navid, who let himself fall for Silver when his own girlfriend wouldn't pay him the slightest attention. He certainly has her attention now because he's constantly on her mind. Too little, too late.

_Where were you_  
><em>When everything was falling apart?<em>  
><em>All my days<em>  
><em>Were spent by the telephone<em>  
><em>That never rang<em>  
><em>And all I needed was a call<em>  
><em>That never came<em>  
><em>To the corner of First and Amistad<em>

Why did she expect so much from him? Despite her fame-hungry actions and her ignorance, she honestly did expect him to love her forever and to be there for her when things got dark. Things are dark and she's alone. There's no way to be with him, no reason to have any more expectations. Her chest tightens at the thought. Her brains swims with dozens of sad thoughts. You deserve this, moans Adrianna inwardly. You deserve this.

"Excuse me?" says a voice, echoing her initial introduction to her interview, to her latest failure.

Adrianna closes her eyes, opens them to a pair of blue ones, dry and searching.

"What?" says Adrianna.

"I said I was going to call you," says Liam. "And I called your name from the back room."

He takes a seat next to her on the pier, something folded lying on his lap.

"You don't have to call me again because I know what you're going to say," says Adrianna, sniffling. "That I'm a horrible person. That I'm selfish and that you can't trust me because of what I did. And you'd be telling the truth."

She folds her hands together in her lap, wringing them. Liam scoots over until his waist is next to hers. He shifts the folded cloth to her lap.

"It's clean," says Liam, touching the apron. "For a clean slate?"

A clean slate? Like, a fresh start? Adrianna grins through her tears. For Liam to put his neck out for her says a lot about him. Over the years, she regarded him as Navid's friend, Naomi's extremely attractive ex, and Annie's man-meat, but today? He's her friend too. Plus, why wouldn't he understand out of all of them? He was nowhere near perfect yet he had no problem with it. Redemption was a road he'd taken, and she is ready to go down that road as well.

_Lost and insecure_  
><em>You found me, you found me<em>  
><em>Lyin' on the floor<em>  
><em>Surrounded, surrounded<em>  
><em>Why'd you have to wait?<em>  
><em>Where were you? Where were you?<em>  
><em>Just a little late<em>  
><em>You found me, you found me<em>

"Really?" says Adrianna.

"Really," says Liam. "You gotta keep it clean, though. Understand?"

Adrianna more than understands, if he's saying what she believes he's actually saying. She nods repeatedly. This is her shot for a cleaner reputation and she's so not screwing things up. As if reading her mind, Liam shrugs.

"Being the bad boy...or the bad girl doesn't make you a bad person," says Liam. "You just gotta work harder to show there's another side to you."

"Thank you," says Adrianna.

_In the end _

_Everyone ends up alone_  
><em>Losing her<em>  
><em>The only one who's ever known<em>  
><em>Who I am<em>  
><em>Who I'm not, who I wanna be<em>  
><em>No way to know<em>  
><em>How long she will be next to me<em>

"Your folder won me over," offers Liam, with a slight chuckle.

She laughs. "It was either that folder or Kelly Clarkson from _American Idol_."

"My mom watched that," says Liam. "It was stupid but I like Simon because he's tough."

"He's...he's moved on from the show, Liam," shares Adrianna hesitantly.

"I like Simon," repeats Liam with a blank smile, staring off.

"Um...so do I," says Adrianna. "Hey, know what? We could play 'Gin and Juice' on the speakers because...it's a bar!"

"Chhh yeah," says Liam. "That makes total sense! All I have is that dumb Disney Kids CD on constant rotation."

"Fist bump!" sing-songs Adrianna, raising her fist.

"Ugh, fine," says Liam, bumping his fist with hers.

"_Sippin' on gin and juice_," sings Adrianna. "_Laid baaaaack_..."

"_With my mind on my money, and my money on my mind_," finishes Liam with a laugh.

_Lost and insecure_  
><em>You found me, you found me<em>  
><em>Lyin' on the floor<em>  
><em>Where were you? Where were you?<em>  
><em>Lost and insecure<em>  
><em>You found me, you found me<em>  
><em>Lyin' on the floor<em>  
><em>Surrounded, surrounded<em>  
><em>Why'd you have to wait?<em>  
><em>Where were you? Where were you?<em>  
><em>Just a little late<em>  
><em>You found me, you found me<em>  
><em>Why'd you have to wait?<em>  
><em>To find me, to find me<em>

The dancing couple leaves as Adrianna continues to stare out at the open expanse of the ocean, startled when she spies an arm encircling her shoulders. She relaxes, casting a warm glance at Liam who brings her cheek close to his chest. Hearing a slower heartbeat than hers, she takes in the steady rhythm and smiles at the image of her bent body crystal-clear in the depths underneath.


	2. It's My Life

**II. It's My Life**

_Funny how I find myself in love with you _  
><em>If I could buy my reasoning I'd would pay to lose <em>  
><em>One half won't do <em>  
><em>I've asked myself <em>  
><em>How much do you commit yourself? <em>

_It's my life _  
><em>Don't you forget <em>  
><em>It's my life <em>  
><em>It never ends <em>

_Funny how I blind myself _  
><em>I never knew if I was sometimes played upon <em>  
><em>Afraid to lose <em>  
><em>I'd tell myself what good you do <em>  
><em>Convince myself <em>

_It's my life _  
><em>Don't you forget <em>  
><em>It's my life <em>  
><em>It never ends <em>

_I've asked myself _  
><em>How much do you commit yourself? <em>

_It's my life _  
><em>Don't you forget <em>  
><em>Caught in the crowd <em>  
><em>It never ends.<em>

**It's My Life is the property of No Doubt.**

**Rhythm of the Night is the property of DeBarge.**

The Spock hood ornament signals to the Mercedes in front of Max's car to _live long, and prosper_. Parking in Pasadena was no picnic so Max is relieved to reach the familiar streets of his hometown of Los Angeles. Here, he knew intersections, trouble spots, shortcuts. He wishes he knew another shortcut, however- how to tell his parents that Naomi is coming to the celebration dinner tomorrow. It's definitely not something to leave on an answering machine or worse a text. Max always prefers face-to-face communication and this is no exception. But Naomi is exceptional enough for him to be straight with Micah and Miriam Miller even if it meant going head-on into the stalled opinions of her in the otherwise busy traffic of their minds.

Max drives towards the modest Miller home, a two-story residence without a pool, party room, or chandeliers. His place is nothing like Naomi's mansion. You could fit a fourth of Comic-Con's attendees into her digs. Of course those types of things were second nature to Naomi but she never put on any airs when she came over to the Millers'. In fact, she was excited every time she visited him. Surely she wouldn't be as excited this time if his parents were home and put on airs. His father definitely had no trouble doing so if he was in one of his moods. He still e-mailed Max about the MIT courses he was missing out on or the latest lecturers he let slip past him because he was too invested in being "here." What he really meant to say is that Max was and is too invested in his relationship with Naomi.

They'd had several arguments about his choice before he left for the summer program, often ending with Max staring open-mouthed as his father stormed out of the room. Micah Miller hates when things don't go his way, when order escapes him. An instructor at the local planetarium, he liked to study the stars, stratosphere, and anything that stayed fixed for a period of time. He was blown away if something new popped up in the solar system but he always had an explanation ready for the discovery. His love of planning is probably why he married another teacher. Miriam taught at Elite Petite Preschool, a prestigious primary school where toddlers had to take tests in order to get into and where parents had to pay thousands once the test scores were approved. Both Max and Melanie spent an unhappy year there and begged to leave after the first day. It just wasn't for them. Micah insisted they stay. Miriam put her foot down for once and took them to public school herself. It is still a sore topic and Max continues to wonder if his mother's only going along with his father's wishes for M.I.T. because she already stood up for him once. She did give him a huge care package before CalTech orientation - crackers, cookies, a couple Gamestop gift cards.

He approaches the driveway, making note of the new strawberry poison dart frog sitting on the Miller mailbox. His mother has recently become obsessed with rainforest creatures and now she was getting her kids obsessed with them too. Max guesses there will be a different animal when he comes home for Thanksgiving...if they want him around. Max pulls in front of the house, locks his car, and locates his house key. He unlocks the door and steps inside.

Nothing. Strange. He could've sworn he saw all three family cars. Melanie's ladybug-spotted red VW bug is, without a doubt, hard to miss. Max trudges upstairs to see if there's any noise there. Lots as it turns out. He can hear Miriam listening to tapes of tropical sounds and Melanie yelling at her TV. Also, Max could swear his mom's talking to someone in all the madness. Maybe she's on the phone? He doesn't want to upset his mother so he'll go say hi to Melanie. She's every inch his sister with the same eye and hair color yet she managed to get perfect vision like their father. Max wouldn't be surprised if she talked her genes into giving her that trait. She was that outspoken. Max slowly opens her door.

"Don't put the pockets on the bubble skirt!" cries Melanie, hitting her bed comforter with the remote. "You'll age your model twenty years!"

Max watches Tim Gunn turn quickly away from a very bad outfit to critique another evening gown.

"These boneheads can't design diddly squat," moans Melanie.

She then notices Max and jumps up speedily to hug him.

"Hey, stranger!" greets Melanie. "You smell like Sunny D."

Max chuckles. "I just came from the laundromat. Every article of clothing I own smells like citrus."

"Ugh, please do not tell Mom," says Melanie. "Knowing her, she'd start a discussion about which fruits are native to Papau New Guinea."

"Is Dad home?" asks Max.

"He's in his study," answers Melanie.

"Good, cause there's something I need to tell him," says Max.

"What's wrong?" says a nervous Melanie. "Did you get a B?"

"Of course not," says Max defensively. "Though there was that one time..."

"He made you read the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica that month," recalls Melanie.

"I liked it," says Max.

"You would," brushes off Melanie. "So what is it?"

"I still haven't...told them Naomi's coming to dinner...," begins Max.

"Did you oodle your noodle?" says Melanie, rising to knock her brother on the head. "They're going to flip...freak..."

"Or fall in love with Naomi like I did," interjects Max.

"Hopefully," says Melanie sweetly. "You better tell them tonight. Their standards are higher than a tightrope, and I don't mean the cute dance Janelle Monae does."

"Who?" says Max.

"Get outta here, nerd," says Melanie. "I'm halfway through a Project Runway marathon and Heidi Klum hasn't butchered the English language yet."

"Heidi Klum," says Max dreamily.

"_Telling Naomi_," sing-songs Melanie as Max starts to leave.

"_No, you're not_," returns Max.

As soon as Max reaches the hall, he hears wings fluttering but this isn't a recorded sound. It's the action of his father's prize cockatoo, Copernicus, who'd be out of his cage for a dose of exercise. That must mean his father is in the study like Melanie said. Max breathes in and out, his shoulders going up and down. He's a young adult now, grown to the point where he can speak to his father like he would an equal, at least for five minutes.

Max strolls into the study. Copernicus spies him.

"Too legit! Too legit to quit!" says Copernicus, bobbing his white and gold head. "Heeeeey! Heeeey heey! Squawk!"

"Melanie must be messing around with him again," mumbles Max to himself.

"You better erase that from your memory bank fast, Copi!" bellows a voice from the right.

Micah has his head buried in a tall cabinet where he keeps his astronomy instruments. They're quite lovely to look at, and Max was more than happy to hear his father teach him about them when he was little. But that was ages ago and Max is hoping that Micah can learn a thing or two about forgiveness and acceptance from him. Naomi shouldn't be excluded or judged. She should be included and Max is determined for that to be the victory in a boxing match that's unfortunately lasted for months.

"Maxwell!" greets Micah as he closes the cabinet, then more genuinely. "Max."

He goes to hug his son, Max returning the hug weakly. Max is too distracted to give him a full embrace. He parts his mouth to start.

"I've got a book on Galileo I want to give you," says Micah.

"Thanks," says Max.

Chicken, he condemns himself. Just do it. It's not like he hasn't known the man for eighteen years. Max watches wordlessly as his father locates the book. He presents the book to Max, the old-time mathematician and astronomer Galileo glaring at him. Galileo is judging him. He's judging him so hard right now.

"Listen, Dad," says Max. "So the dinner..."

"Not just any dinner," says Micah. "Your honorary dinner! Do you know how rare it is to get into Alpha Lambda Delta this soon? Any grad school is going to eat that up."

"I suppose so," offers Max calmly.

"Especially M.I.T.," continues Micah.

And there's the bomb, the subject that manages to creep into every conversation they have, the place that his father believes will right every wrong. Max lays the book on the desk so he's able to cross his arms.

"Dad, could we not?" says Max.

Micah snorts his nose, walks back towards the closet. He removes a lunar cycle graph, moon chart, hand held brass telescope, and a magnifying glass. He was purposely working to avoid Max's protest. That much is clear. Well, he hopes he doesn't cause his father to break his magnifying glass when he delivers this next piece of news. Those things were pretty thick anyway.

"I...invited somebody...," begins Max.

"So did I," interrupts Micah, then yelling. "Miriam?"

The loud rainforest chorus stops, and Max hears a set of approaching feet. No, two sets of feet if he's not mistaken. Max turns to the door. His mother, frowning and casting glances at Micah, stands in the doorway with a white-haired man with a pocket watch over his stomach.

"What's this?" says Max.

"Max, I'd like you to meet Ezra Samuelson," says Micah, walking to Max. "Ezra, this is my son Maxwell."

"Nice to meet you?" says Max, unsure yet shaking Mr. Samuelson's hand.

"The pleasure is mine," assures Mr. Samuelson.

"You'll be joining us for dinner?" says Max with a creased brow.

"No, we'd like you to join us at M.I.T.," says Mr. Samuelson. "I'm the head of the Mathematics department and Micah was just telling me..."

This is not happening, not actually happening. Max stares at his father, who wears a wide grin on his amused face. Micah really would go to any means to get him across the country at a school he didn't want to go to anymore. They could've talked privately. They could've discussed this if CalTech didn't work out. Heck, he could've gone to M.I.T. for grad school if his father was so insistent. But to go behind his back like this?

"Undergraduates publishing work, top faculty members in their field, world-renowned cultural events in the heart of Boston you can go to on the weekends," says Mr. Samuelson, obviously in the middle of a speech Max missed because he was too blind-sided to pay attention.

"Did you hear that CalTech surpassed M.I.T. in this year's college rankings?" says Max.

"I beg your pardon?" cries a rattled Mr. Samuelson with continual head shakes.

"I'm just telling you," continues Max. "In case your son would _like to go_ there."

"He most certainly wouldn't...," insists Mr. Samuelson.

"Ezra, could you give us a minute?" says Micah.

He quickly ushers Mr. Samuelson, sputtering about the disadvantages of a CalTech degree, out of the room. Miriam puts an arm around Max as he sighs deeply. Micah shuts the door once Mr. Samuelson is gone. He also whispers just in case Mr. Samuelson isn't out of earshot.

"Of all the cockamamie...," whispers Micah heatedly.

"Cockatoo!" bellows Copernicus. "Eggs equal M.C. Hammer! Squawk!"

"Shut up, you flying handtowel!" shouts Micah.

Copernicus imitates a human laugh and then hides under his wings.

"Why is he here?" questions Max as calmly as possible.

"Ezra?" says Miriam, her voice wavering. "He...he simply stopped by."

"You don't simply stop by from M.I.T.," says Max. "The truth?"

"Fine," says Micah. "I contacted him...weeks ago. He signed up for a golf invitational in L.A., and came by as a favor to me."

"Do me a favor," says Max. "Stop trying to foist M.I.T. on me."

"It's not foisting," insists Micah. "It's fulfilling a legacy. Your grandfather went, two of your uncles went, and most importantly, I went there. Do you know how wonderfully they treat legacy students? Or what kind of jobs you could get with that degree? You wanted to go. For years."

"It was a bit rash when you changed your mind," brings up Miriam hesistantly.

They're telling him more than one truth. He did have dreams about M.I.T. but dreams aren't permanent sometimes. Or better yet, new and more enticing dreams pop up at surprising moments. Naomi is a new dream and CalTech is quickly becoming another. His professors are jaw-droppingly intelligent, and he's thoroughly enjoying his courses, including computer science which he hadn't flirted with until he got there. He had his taste of Cambridge, of M.I.T. this summer. That was plenty for him. Couldn't his father be proud that he sailed through that program with flying colors? Apparently not. Well, he won't let this trap keep him grounded.

"There's only one reason why you stayed and we both know what that is," says Micah, straightening his jacket.

"Well, I've invited that one reason to the Delta dinner," shares Max. "I was going to ask but you clearly don't value my feelings..."

"What about my feelings?" says Micah. "I mean, I'll be polite to the girl, even if she is making you lack any common sense, but she should support any decision that sends you where you deserve to go."

"You don't understand, Dad," says Max.

"I understand that you're willing to let some five month fling tie you down," says Micah.

"You're trying to tie me down, to a place I don't want to be," counters Max. "And she's not a fling! And it's going on nine months! She supports me as much as you guys. I don't get why we all can't celebrate that I'm busting my butt off at CalTech and being rewarded for it. Aren't you proud of me?"

"We are proud of you," says Miriam, tenderly touching his shoulder.

His father looks at him sympathetically for a moment. Maybe it's sinking in...finally. Maybe he's willing to compromise. They did spend the summer apart and perhaps his father did get the hint after this last episode. Max hated to be cross with Mr. Samuelson but he had to stand up for himself or else the strain in their relationship would've gotten much worse in the future. Micah clears his throat, brushes past Max and whispers four words into his ear. They cut Max to the core. He lowers his head and no witty bon mot from Copernicus could make him smile, laugh, or slow the beating of his heart.

"What did he say?" asks Miriam.

"We could be prouder," repeats Max with quivering lips.

Miriam holds him against her, Max's tears sliding off the lowered lenses of his glasses.

II.

"_Hey girl, whatcha doing? Hey, girl, where ya going?"_

Liam burps into his pillow and then spreads his entire body across his bed. He left his computer on, for the entire night, again. He didn't know how to pause the episode of _New Girl_ without the computer going dark so he gave up and now he can't look at the lovely face of Zooey Deschanel first thing in the morning like he wanted to. Life is not fair. At least it's seven a.m. and he has no place to be. Liam shuts his eyes once more.

"_Who's that girl?_" sings the TV screen. "_Who's that girl_? It's Jess!"

"Shut up, Jess," groans Liam, putting a pillow over his head. "Aaaah."

Any other guy wouldn't be wasting his nights watching TV shows online. Any other guy would have a TV. Ugh, he's been in a funk since he came to shore. Nobody except his friends knew he proposed twice, but perfect strangers knew he proposed at least once and got shot down both times. The rose petals...the beautiful music...the fireworks. Proposal failure. Liam never thought he'd have anything in common with the men on the _Bachelor_. What a bunch of wusses. They don't even pay for their dates. Or do they? Man, if the Internet wasn't so wonky at the beach, he could've kept up with the cool dudes on _Sons of Anarchy_ instead of thinking about reality TV or proposals and Annie...and Zooey...and any other hot brunette actress.

His cellphone rings, Liam managing to pick up on the third ring.

"Hi, Liam!" says the voice on the other end. "It's Adrianna. Remember me?"

"What the?" says Liam.

He checks the clock again. 7:02. Either he totally spaced out during Daylight Savings Time or...no, he didn't understand the rules for that.

"What time is it?" asks Liam.

"Seven!" shares Adrianna. "You told me to be at the bar at seven."

"I meant 7 p.m. ," says Liam. "Nobody opens a bar this early."

"Oh...well, I'm here!" says Adrianna. "The door's locked."

"Of course it's locked," moans Liam. "Ugggggh. Did you even sleep last night?"

"Yeah, and I woke up at like...six," informs Adrianna.

"Good for you," sighs Liam.

This girl cannot possibly be this peppy in the morning. He thought he hired a waitress, not a cheerful little alarm clock. Liam hits his head against his pillow repeatedly. Let me sleep, thinks Liam. Let me sleep. Useless.

"I ate breakfast and everything," says Adrianna. "I had oatmeal."

"Look, I can't get back to sleep," says Liam. "Let me just get up, get dressed, and let you in."

"Where are you?" questions Adrianna. "I didn't see your car."

"I live at the bar," says Liam.

"Liam, why are you living at a bar?" says Adrianna. "Are you homeless?"

"I just bought the bar for twenty-five thousand bucks...what do you think?" asks Liam.

"Well, what are you going to do with the rest of it?" poses Adrianna. "Buy an apartment?"

"There is no rest of it," replies Liam. "That was it."

"Why are you living at a bar, though?" says Adrianna.

"Ade, just...just hold on," says Liam, then hanging up.

Liam rolls to the edge of his bed, wipes his eyes, and fetches some clean clothes before heading to the shower. While showering, he wonders why he's living there too and why he bought the bar at all. He did want a new start like everyone around him. Navid had his own business, and Teddy and Silver had their own careers. Naomi and Annie were at CU and would get fresh opportunities there. Ivy is starting life as a married woman. Dixon is probably working on some tight/fresh/cool/whatever doesn't suck lyrics. Liam craves some tight things in his life too, besides his swimming trunks.

He flips on the small radio in the shower and backs up a bit. When he was with Annie in Mexico, she pointed out to him that you could be electrocuted if anything electric touched the water while he was in it. She taught him that and other life lessons. Would that be the last? He thought they would last or else he wouldn't have spent so much dough on that engagement ring. The rings were all nice and shiny. What's with the Wilsons? Annie didn't go for the engagement ring and Dixon dissed the shiny surf waves to go DJ. They are totally missing out on opportunities to be around him. Shoot. They'd come back around when he's making bank at the bar.

"_Lifestyles of the rich and famous,_" sings along Liam, then changing the lyrics. "_I won't be complainin'_..._I won't be complainin'_."

Oh no, the bar. Adrianna's waiting for him to open up shop. That's one hot brunette actress. Liam smiles briefly and then checks himself. She's also kind of problematic. Hotness can't outdo drama. But she does seem energetic so that's something.

Fully clothed, Liam jogs to the bar area and catches sight of Adrianna swinging her hips from side to side. She wears a cute summer dress that's gold with a pattern of white roses. So girls can look this good at seven in the morning without sleeping with him. Liam makes sure her head is turned before fixing his hair in the glass door. A few moments later, he hears a loud shout.

"Hi, boss!" greets Adrianna, smiling through the glass.

"Ah!" cries Liam, then composing himself. "Oh."

He unlocks the door and holds it open for her.

"I've never been in the inside!" says Adrianna.

The inside area of the bar is certainly more glamorous than the tiki hut station on the beach outside. He still has work to do, but the solid oak tables, clean walkways to the balcony and beach, and gleaming bottles of liquor improve the atmosphere considerably.

"Mi casa es su casa," says Liam, impressed he remembered the words from a Simpsons episode.

"No habla ingles," says Adrianna. "Look at the cute little tables. And the picture of the pirate!"

A long poster of Jack Sparrow hangs above one walkway. Old Salty's daughter had insisted on the placement.

"We should get a parrot!" says Adrianna, giving him a thumbs up.

"No," says Liam, giving the idea a thumbs down.

"I'm scared of Captain Hook," says Adrianna in a low whisper to him. "I have nightmares about him sometimes. See, I was Tinkerbell and he was trying to eat me and..."

"Okay," says Liam, steering her to the bar counter. "You've never been a waitress before so I think you should practice on the only man in the room."

"Liam, you're so silly," laughs Adrianna. "A poster can't order."

"Not the poster," sighs Liam. "You'll practice on me."

Liam finds a clipboard, pencil, and serving tray behind the counter. He was going to have her practice with real drinks, but since she came several...many hours earlier than she was supposed to, she'd just serve pretend drinks.

"This is going to be so much fun!" says Adrianna as she takes them.

Liam shrugs and takes a seat at an oak table. Adrianna goes off into a corner and makes weird noises with her mouth, almost as if she's warming up her voice. Right. She's a former actress, though it's still very weird.

"Hello," says Adrianna, advancing to the table. "What drink would you like?"

"You can do better than that, Ade," says Liam. "Like in movies, they call the customer sir."

"Liam, I'm not calling you sir," says Adrianna. "You're not British."

"Yes I am, on my father's side," says Liam.

"My mind is blown," breathes Adrianna. "Hey, didn't you have a brother whose name started with a C?"

"Oh yeah," recalls Liam. "The dude was my half-brother. He was French or went to France or something."

"Was it Chris?" asks Adrianna.

"No," replies Liam.

"Charlie?" guesses Adrianna.

"Nope," answers Liam.

"Crispin?" says Adrianna.

"Negatorio," replies Liam.

"Charlie?" says Adrianna.

"No," says Liam. "Hey, where's your apron?"

"Right!" cries Adrianna, smacking her forehead. "I left it in under my new Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. Um, do you mind if I Bedazzle that sucker?"

"Is it going to cost me money?" asks Liam.

"No, sir," says Adrianna.

"Awesome," says Liam, grinning. "Have a ball with it."

"Heee!" cries Adrianna, jumping up and down, wandering out of the bar in excitement.

"Hey, what about my drink?" yells Liam after her.

Throwing up his hands, he retreats to the counter where he starts measuring what's in the taps. He spends the next two hours moving beer to the lock-up, shifting furniture, and cleaning the counters. He doesn't stop until the door opens. It's about time, Adrianna. Instead, he views Old Salty, the original owner, in one of his trademark Hawaiian shirts and baggy shorts. He looks like the dad on Boy Meets World, only slightly hairier.

"Word on the street is that you had no customers yesterday," says Old Salty as he walks to the bar.

"It was...a Friday," says Liam softly.

"And nobody comes to bars on Friday," says Old Salty. "Mhmmm. Look, Liam, you've been a moody beach bum ever since I met you..."

"Thanks," says Liam.

"That wasn't a compliment," says Old Salty, shaking his head. "You sulking around isn't going to bring in the surfers and the happy families and the teenagers."

"What will if that won't?" says Liam, with a furrowed brow.

"Enthusiasm!" replies Old Salty. "These kids want somewhere that's a hip place to be."

"I've got hips," says Liam as he pats them.

"Did you actually finish high school?" says Old Salty.

"Barely," replies Liam.

"That explains it," says Old Salty. "I don't want this place to die, period. So drum up some new business. Be more creative. Talk to people. Smile for once."

Liam, about to respond, goes silent when the bar door opens, this time with Adrianna coming right on through. She's in the same dress with an additional accessory. Her apron is covered with sparkly rhinestones and pink ribbon on the sides. Smiling, Adrianna approaches the bar and sets a bottle of soda right in front of Liam.

"I don't like Diet Sprite," says Liam, frowning.

"I do!" says Old Salty, taking it from him. "Who's this?"

"Adrianna, my new waitress," replies Liam. "And...our enthusiasm."

"I don't know what that means, but I'm excited!" says Adrianna.

Old Salty laughs. "I like her. She's funny."

Liam and Adrianna exchange short smiles, Liam eventually lowering his eyes and focusing on the trash bag he meant to take out several minutes ago. He throws the bag over his shoulder, hearing the others talk as he leaves.

"Did you know that Liam's British?" says Adrianna. "He must be hiding his accent."

"I had a hunch," kids Old Salty.

Adrianna shrugs. "You're smarter than I am."

III.

Naomi pours sugar into her iced mocha, steam flowing past her shoulders. The weather left her parched and particular about what to wear, though the latter is a struggle she has to encounter everyday, especially with Homecoming nominations on the horizon. She couldn't pinpoint where to begin in securing a nomination however. If she got nominated, she'd already drawn up a route to royalty. Silver could help her win votes from the film and English departments, Annie the theatre department, so the humanities would be a lock. She'd throw a party to get some undecided voters and with Max in tow, she's sure to woo the math and science crowd before the ballots are due. But the nomination is mostly out of her hands. They were done by secret ballot and it all came down to popularity, and she's aware that there's dozens of campus women ahead of her in that category.

"Who do I have to make out with to get some rolls on the table?" exclaims Tracy Clark, returning from the restroom.

"Mom!" cries Naomi.

Enter: Tracy Clark. Her mother is visiting from Tahoe, her treat to herself after the long pain-staking divorce. Once Naomi got used to the idea of her parents being divorced, communication between Naomi and her mother became easier. They could both make stinging remarks against her unfaithful father and Tracy was back in the dating scene with Naomi's encouragement. Naomi could see that the time Tracy took for herself really worked in her favor. Jen and Naomi were used to being independent whereas this is something novel for their mother. So any advice the newly confident Tracy has to provide in terms of charming the masses will be welcomed whole-heartedly by Naomi.

A waiter rushes to their table and deposits a bowl of gold bread rolls.

"Break me off a piece of that," says Tracy, winking at the waiter's lower assets.

"God, stop quoting _Clueless_," says Naomi. "You're still old enough to be Alicia Silverstone's mother."

"I'm a single gal and I'm your mother," says Tracy.

Naomi chuckles. "Yes. But who can tell under all that Botox?"

"Just wait until you hit thirty-nine," says Tracy, tossing her silk napkin at Naomi's chest.

They love teasing each other. Naomi's sure she gets her humor from her mother because her dad practically has zilch.

"Mom, do you think I can win? Honestly?" says Naomi.

"I was a Homecoming Queen, Jen was a princess, and you're bound to be either," says Tracy. "It's in our blood. Like perfect teeth."

Naomi flashes her pearly whites and then hears her phone buzz. She reads a text from Max on the small screen. He promised to give her the time of his dinner and plus, she suspects, he might miss talking to her. He's minutes away from the cafe? She told him where she was but she wasn't anticipating him showing up. Is something the matter? It looks like there will be an impromptu meeting between him and her mother.

"Is that Maximus?" asks Tracy.

"No, he's not some bulky guy from a period movie," replies Naomi. "Besides, would I date someone with the temper of Russell Crowe? Uh, no. Max...well, he's...well, wait a sec."

Shouldering her Missoni clutch, Naomi peers through the cafe window until she makes out Max's reliable car crawling to a tree and stopping. She wonders if she should warn him. They already have a lot of parental pressure on them, probably. What if Tracy wasn't fond of him like she was? There's no reason for her not to be, but Max is unlike any guy she's dated before. Tracy practically hand-picked Ethan out for her and loved when Naomi started falling for him herself. If Max were in a line-up, would Tracy pick him out for her? Naomi has no idea. Without a word to her mother, Naomi slips out of the cafe.

She sees Max briefly climb into the back of his car, and emerge with a bouquet of flowers. A bouquet? She recognizes her favorite flowers among them - white roses, pink tulips, and purple lilies of the valley. Were those for her? It's not her birthday or an anniversary? Did she forget an anniversary? Naomi fumbles for something on her person. Heh. She could give him a Starbucks gift card. She removes the card and walks to him with a grin.

"Happy anniversary!" shouts Naomi, presenting the card.

"Huh?" says Max, locking his car.

"That's not it, is it?" groans Naomi. "I knew I should've checked my Blackberry."

"I have our anniversary written on my dorm calendar," assures Max.

"Adorable," says Naomi as he hands her the flowers. "Well, what are these for?"

"They're actually an apology bouquet," clarifies Max. "Because after you come to dinner, I'm going to want to apologize for how belligerent my father is going to be to you."

"Noooo," groans Naomi. "Max..."

This has been her worry since Max mentioned the future meal with his father and mother. They aren't interested in her. They're solely interested in why Max is blowing off a college career in Massachusetts, gauging whether she's worth the trouble. Breaking up with him isn't an option for her. She would rather go through the trials of a long-distance relationship if that's what it took. Nevertheless, she's certain that after awhile, the rift between Max and his parents would eat away at him and a break-up would occur if they did go long distance. The best choice for them is for her to go and talk to them herself.

"He sprung an M.I.T. professor on me," shares Max. "I swear, Cambridge might as well be the pearly gates as far as he's concerned. Then to drag you into it..."

"Max, I don't mind ironing the issue out tomorrow if that's what it takes," insists Naomi.

"You should mind," sighs Max. "I mind."

"Are you completely sure M.I.T. is out?" questions Naomi quietly.

"Yes," says Max, bringing her closer and rubbing her arms. "Yes. It's been ironed out. CalTech has everything I could ever want and it's so close to everything...and everyone I want."

Naomi's face grows flustered, and she grins as she meets Max's eyes. Wait, there was a reason she came out here.

"My mom!" cries Naomi suddenly.

"Your mom?" says Max.

"She's kinda inside," shares Naomi. "Listen, you don't have to meet her. I grew up with Ethan so she knew him pretty well. She never met Liam...thank goodness. Sooooo yeah, you'd be a totally different kind of dish."

"Am I a hot dish?" teases Max.

"Simmering," replies Naomi, reaching to squeeze his butt.

Max does a small yelp and removes Naomi's wandering hand.

"I was checking the temperature," says Naomi with a wink.

"We'll have to have a cooking lesson later," muses Max. "But seriously? I'd love to meet the female that's responsible for your conception."

"Fair warning...she doesn't speak bio," says Naomi, taking his hand. "Follow me, hot stuff."

They enter the cafe where Naomi spies Tracy reapplying lip gloss with the help of the back of a spoon. She lowers the spoon when Max and Naomi reach the table. Here goes nothing, thinks Naomi, standing right beside her boyfriend. Max smiles fully.

"Is this Maximus?" guesses Tracy, her eyes bugging out slightly.

Man, would she drop the made up nickname already? Naomi buries her face into Max's shoulder.

"I wish I were that heroic," says Max, extending his hand. "Hi. I'm Max Miller. Nice to finally meet you."

"Oh, I don't want a handshake," waves off Tracy.

Naomi lifts her head to glare at her mother.

"I wanna give ya a hug!" says Tracy, rising and fulfilling her wish.

Max returns the hug warmly. Naomi smiles, letting her jaw drop. Tracy nods energetically over Max's shoulder. She likes him. Awesome. Naomi folds her hands together and sits at the table.

"Look at these cute cheekbones!" says Tracy, releasing Max to squeeze his cheeks. "It's like they were carved by Michaelangelo."

"She doesn't mean the Ninja Turtle, Max," moans Naomi. "Mom, please...sit...down."

Tracy takes a seat while Max retrieves a chair from an empty table.

"So what's up, home skillet?" asks Tracy.

She playfully punches Max on the shoulder.

"Your mom's really cool," says Max to a mortified Naomi.

"Don't encourage her," says Naomi. "She never met a piece of nineties slang she didn't like. Never mind that it's 2011."

"You don't say," kids Tracy.

"We're not related," claims Naomi, leaning against Max. "At all."

IV.

"And then I tried to sing to a quail and he hopped away," narrates Adrianna. "I didn't think I was that out of tune."

Liam snickers as they stroll along the boardwalk. Light breezes skip across his chin, temporarily lift Adrianna's skirt, clutch at Liam's terrycloth T-shirt. Street vendors selling snacks shout the specials of the day. Street musicians play their saxophones, keyboards, and drums. A kid chases his runaway kite while a trio of young girls are chattering and carrying fishing poles. Liam secretly scans their faces. Nah, he didn't want a girl that could fish better than him. He turns his attention back to Adrianna.

"You have a lot of stories for one summer," says Liam.

Surprisingly, he's enjoying about ninety-eight percent of them, except for the two about her dog Beyonce giving birth and the inflamed butt of the baboon she saw at a zoo.

"I was in Africa for awhile," shares Adrianna.

"What'd you do?" asks Liam.

"Hand out water, help build a shelter, taught orphans how to act extra innocent in case Angelina comes to their country to adopt," answers Adrianna.

"Huh," says Liam, stroking his chin.

"That last one was a joke," says Adrianna, elbowing him.

"I knew that," says Liam.

He didn't. Never mind. He has to focus on the task at hand. Between the two of them, they'd created a flier for Offshore Bar. It felt strange to have a girl in his bedroom. Chances are Annie would've been living with him there if she accepted his proposal so it wasn't totally unthinkable, but that didn't make it less unusual for Adrianna to be in there. He was chivalrous and let her sit in his chair, he offered her some mini-burgers, the typical stuff. Luckily she didn't need to use the bathroom. He hasn't cleaned it since...he hasn't cleaned it.

The fliers were in equal stacks, with Liam and Adrianna carrying a stack each. They'd taken Old Salty's wisdom and now they'd see how far it would get them.

"Does it matter if we misspelled Offshore?" asks Adrianna, staring at the yellow flier with a boat and a smiling surfboard with "Offsure" drawn on the paper.

"Nah," says Liam.

He wouldn't be surprised if there were more misspellings. They completed the flier in ten minutes max. Those red lines under the words tried to slow them down but they went right on trucking.

"We should've used a dictionary," says Adrianna.

"I don't have a dictionary," says Liam. "That's what the Internet's for. To look up stuff."

"They can make their own corrections," figures Adrianna.

"They sure can," says Liam.

"I looked up atonement last night," shares Adrianna. "Cause that's what my shrink says I'm in the process of doing. Then I accidentally ordered the film with the same name."

"Was it a pop-up?" says Liam.

"Yeah," says Adrianna, pouting.

"I hate that garbage," mutters Liam. "They're always trying to convince you to do something. Especially EHarmony with their happy couples."

"Oh my gosh, you're into musical duets?" says Adrianna.

"No, it's a stupid dating site or whatever," says Liam, then rushing quickly ahead.

Adrianna keeps up with him. "What happened to you and Annie?"

Rather than respond, Liam presents a flier, to a ten-year old boy who gives him the stink-eye.

"Come to Offshore Bar, further down the boardwalk," says Liam.

"I can't drink beer, you dumbo!" cries the boy. "Are you on crack?"

"The first step is admitting you have a problem," says Adrianna, clutching Liam's shoulder.

"You two are whackadoo!" exclaims the boy.

"Liam, don't give any kids bar fliers," whispers Adrianna.

"They can tell their parents," says Liam. "Or older brothers and sisters...or anybody that can read."

"Good plan," says Adrianna, clapping him on the back.

"I'm not telling anyone," says the boy. "Got me?"

"Tell your parents about Offshore!" yells Liam after him as the boy races off.

Unfortunately, he also leaves Liam to his thoughts. What went on with him and Annie? He could write a book, but the last good thing he's written was in Matthews' class. Long story short: He sailed away from commitment, offering Annie no answers about what he wanted to do with his life. He returned because he finally had clarity. Annie refused to marry him. Is it partly his fault? Maybe. He could've called her, at least once, but the ocean swallowed his original cellphone. No lie. Would she buy that excuse? It's hard to find a Sprint store in Alaska.

"When I wasn't acting cray cray around Silver and Navid, I saw you guys acting all honeymoonish in Mexico," poses Adrianna.

"Mexico was a lifetime ago," says Liam, hanging his shoulders.

"Sorry," says Adrianna. "What about...Miami? It has just as many vowels...and less monkeys."

Liam resists the urge to smile. The memories of Mexico were bittersweet for him and to make light of them did slightly ease the pain. He did sail off to Alaska to find out what life was like far from home, and Adrianna has apparently done the same and has come back as a better person. Maybe he can do that too. Now they're on a journey to make Offshore the coolest business on the beach.

They pass out half of their fliers until Adrianna halts at a rocking Carribean band. A man energetically plays his drum kit as another band member shakes his maracas to the beat. A third moves his fingers fast across a keyboard.

"Isn't this a great song?" asks Adrianna.

"It doesn't suck," offers Liam.

"Idea!" says Adrianna. "Musical advertisement! Kettledrums, maracas, energy. Who can say no to that?"

"Um, those drums don't look anything like kettles," says Liam, confused. "Wait, you're going to sing?"

Adrianna gestures to the microphone in front of the drums.

"You're going to sing," sighs Liam. "Alright...I'll let you try anything."

Tucking the rest of the fliers under her arms, Adrianna walks to the lead singer with the maracas, whispers a few words into his ear, and he surrenders the microphone. Liam glances at all the interested people stopping to see what's happening. The band restarts the song. Their lead singer hands Liam the maracas.

"I don't think...," begins Liam.

Adrianna cuts off his protests by singing:

_When it feels like the world is on your shoulders,_  
><em>And all of the madness has got you going crazy.<em>  
><em>It's time to get out, step out into the street,<em>  
><em>Where all of the action is right there at your feet,<em>  
><em>Well, I know a place where we can dance all night away<em>  
><em>Underneath electric stars.<em>

Closing her mouth, she points to Liam. She catches him offguard and he yells the only word running through his brain.

"Offshore!" yells Liam.

Adrianna continues, simulatenously handing out fliers to amused, prospective patrons as she keeps in time with the kettledrums and poppy melody.

_Just come with me and we can shake your blues right away,_  
><em>You'll be doing fine when the music starts, oh<em>

_To the beat of the rhythm of the night, dance until the morning light._  
><em>Forget about the worries on your mind, you can leave them all behind.<em>  
><em>To the beat of the rhythm of the night,<em>  
><em>Oh, the rhythm of the night, oh yeah.<em>

_"_Offshore!" yells Liam again.

The lead singer starts to dance with Adrianna, twirling her and spinning her around with his arms. The apron twirls with her. The residents of the boardwalk bob their heads and weave their bodies, swept away by the fun party anthem. Liam beams. It's like a block party without the block. This is drumming up business and there's even drums.

"_Look out on the street now, the party's_ _just beginning_," sings Adrianna, drawing Liam to the center of the band. "_The music's playing, a celebration's starting..._maracas, Liam, maracas!"

Liam nervously shakes one maraca and then the other. A couple teenage girls stretch their hands out for fliers. Adrianna delivers them speedily.

"_Under the street lights the scene is being set_," continues Adrianna. "_A night for romance, a night you won't forget..."_

The girls squeals as Liam shakes his maracas once more.

"_So join the fun, this ain't_ _no time to being staying home_," says Adrianna, motioning for other people to come forward for fliers. "_Oooh, there's too much going on_."

In a flash, the rest of the fliers are claimed. Liam raises his hands, forgetting they're full. He barely catches the maraca before it almost bounces on his skull.

"Everybody!" cheers Adrianna.

They catch on, singing along:

_To the beat of the rhythm of the night, dance until the morning light._  
><em>Forget about the worries on your mind, you can leave them all behind.<em>  
><em>To the beat of the rhythm of the night, dance until the morning light.<em>  
><em>Forget about the worries on your mind.<em>

Pretty soon, the whole crowd is clapping to the music. Liam claps too, still offbeat, but he's trying. He finally gets it right...as the song ends. The beachgoers applaud Adrianna's rendition as she raises the microphone to her mouth.

"Who's coming to to Offshore tonight?" asks Adrianna.

A chorus of shouts and woots echo back to her and echo in Liam's ears. Yes. He can practically hear the coins clinking in the cash register, which he has less time to figure out how to use after this. Business is booming. The crowd departs and to Liam's relief, nobody's throwing them in the trash. Adrianna shuffles over to him.

"Music brings everybody together," proclaims Adrianna. "Except if you're Danity Kane. That? Was a heartbreaker."

"I have no idea who that is, but thanks to you, we're getting customers tonight," says Liam. "Thank you."

"No thanks necessary," says Adrianna. "Just practice your maracas next time."

"What's in them? Beans?" says Liam, evaluating the round objects.

"Let's go ask," suggests Adrianna.

They approach the lead singer, who gives Adrianna a complimentary smile.

"Can you take apart your maracas so we can see what's inside?" questions Adrianna innocently.

"No, I won't take apart my maracas!" cries the lead singer. "Just...wow...you know, just...wow."

"We'll go," says Liam.

Liam and Adrianna move down the pier, Adrianna staring ahead dumbfounded.

"Why was he so mad?" says Adrianna.

"Well, you forgot to say please," replies Liam, patting her shoulder.

"Oh," says Adrianna. "I did forget."

V.

The key was in his pocket before he knew it. He merely walked into the study, tip-toed past a slumbering Copernicus, and slipped out into the night. He's eighteen yet there is that nagging feeling that he's out of bounds, breaking the rules. Well, he's done it before for Naomi and he's not afraid to do it again. This time, however, Naomi would love his actions. Rewriting her paper vs. a romantic surprise. You do the math, thinks Max, pulling up to Naomi's mansion.

Naomi's two unmarried housemates, Silver and Annie Wilson, are in the yard with a tripod camera focused on Annie. Silver has on a faded red beret while Annie swings her arms absent-mindedly.

"Aaaaaaaand action!" says Silver, her eye against the lens.

"Hi, my name is Annie," says Annie with a bright smile. "I like off-Broadway productions, movie-theater style buttered popcorn, _True Blood_, Chow Chows, guys that don't snore or slurp spaghetti or sail off to discover themselves without telling their girlfriends why they..."

"Hey hey hey!" interrupts Silver. "I thought this was an escort tape, not a personal journal."

"I can't use my journal!" cries Annie.

"Why not?" says Silver.

"I'm out of paper," admits Annie shyly. "Oh, cool it. We've got company!"

Max gets out of his car reluctantly, waving to them and trying not to appear too puzzled. Awkward.

"An escort business?" says Max.

"Yeaaaaaah, Silver," says Annie, throwing haphazard peeks at Max. "I thought you were in a committed relationship! Why are you trying to be an escort?"

"Ummm, beats me?" says a flummoxed Silver.

"Well, I won't be your guinea pig anymore!" exclaims Annie. "Peace out, S-dawg."

Her head held high, Annie scurries inside the mansion before Silver can reply.

"That girl's been listening to Dixon's music for too long," mumbles Silver, then to Max. "Naomi will be down in a second."

"Or less," provides Naomi, coming out of the front door.

Dressed in a dark gold wrap dress, Naomi's skin tone and honeyed, natural highlights are radiant in the draped outfit. Her hair is down and designer sandals complete the ensemble. Max didn't spend much time going through his wardrobe for tonight. He chose a long-sleeved blue shirt and black jeans, since they would be mostly on the floor tonight, in G-rated positions, presumably. He hopes Naomi isn't disappointed. It's the most creative date he could think of with his limited funds.

"You look amazing," compliments Max.

She moves her purse so they can kiss, the strap poking Max's side.

"I had a banana facial," informs Naomi after their lip lock.

"Which is just bananas," adds Silver, smirking.

"Um, who's making the escort video to flirt with old men?" throws back Naomi.

"What did Annie tell you?" groans Silver. "Annie!"

Silver leaves them, clutching her camera tripod under her arm. Max ushers Naomi into his car and they speed away towards the surprise location. Max has gone to the place for years, sometimes willingly and sometimes not. His enjoyment depended on what kind of mood his family members were in, including his father. His father had the most to say about the subject anyhow.

Naomi leans forward in anticipation. She's so beautiful under the random bouts of light that come from traffic lights and street lamps as they cruise ahead. Everyone knew that but he was part of a privileged few who cracked away at the exterior and saw the shiny interior glow up close repeatedly. Maybe he's thinking too much about light though it makes sense on this night in particular.

"I went online to check on the competition...the yearbook photos of Homecoming?" says Naomi. "I swear the freshmen that got on the Court were clones. Blonde, five-foot seven at the very least, good bodies..."

"And that's a problem for you because?" says Max, surveying her up and down.

"They're in all these clubs," says Naomi weakly. "Academic honor societies with pins, social awareness, and one girl was even on the chess team."

"CU has a chess team?" says an impressed Max.

"Max, focus!" sighs Naomi.

"I'm listening," assures Max.

"What do I have to show when it comes to that?" says Naomi.

"Show them yourself," replies Max. "They saw your application and loved who you were enough to accept you. Just be Naomi Clark and they'll vote you for by the thousands. I mean, if you were running for the court of the like the universe's homecoming, I'm sure you'd get an infinite amount. We're talking pi terrority."

"I can't bake," says Naomi.

"No, I mean, pi as in the mathematical constant," explains Max. "No finite sequence of algebraic operations on integers can render its value. You are invaluable, Naomi. Beyond estimation."

"Hmmm," says Naomi, bunching up her shoulders. "I'm like a permanent Gold Card."

They laugh, Max making the last light. He pulls into a space in the shadowy parking lot. There are no other cars, except the security guard's, around like he expected. Turner is nice, reliable, much like himself. Max guesses that he'll instantly warm to Naomi. Naomi stares out of the windshield.

"Trippy building," says Naomi.

"Wait 'til you see the inside," says Max. "Come on."

Max recovers a checkered blanket and a basket from the backseat as Naomi considers the building on her own. She spots the items.

"Awww, are we having a picnic?" says Naomi. "For the record, I don't do ants so I might be kind of jumpy."

"There won't be any ants," says Max. "I know you don't like them."

Walking arm in arm, they reach the entrance of the round building, resembling a crystal ball from the outside, and visible from the highway Micah Miller travels on every weekday. They will have at most an hour. Saturdays are slow but Turner ran on schedule. Max recognizes him, eating a packet of Lemonheads two at a time. He was like Kareem Abdul Jabbar with a candy addiction.

"Hey, Turner!" greets Max.

"Hi Max," says Turner. "I'd offer you some candy, though it looks like you've already got something sweet on your hands."

"I like him," asserts Naomi.

"We're going in," says Max. "A favor from my dad."

"Don't be too long now," says Turner. "Closing time is closing time."

"You have my word," says Max.

Turner leads them into the main room, parting the double doors with flourish. Max expertly leads her past the rows of soft chairs to the large circular space in the middle. He seperates from Naomi to spread out the blanket, setting the basket on the cloth once it's in place.

"Stand here," says Max, guiding her to the right.

Max leaves her to fire up the projector, the celing above mirroring the sky at the touch of a button. Comets shoot across the heavens, full of stars whose reflections float on the floor. Planets revolve prettily, Saturn and Mars the most vibrant in their strong orange and red shades. Naomi's eyes scan the galaxy and she puts her hands to her chest. Max grins. That was his initial impression of the Planetarium as well. It literally left you breathless for those first few moments.

"Max," breathes Naomi finally.

"I came here for field trips, family outings, casual Fridays," shares Max, using the controller to shift to a showing of the moons. "I have my dad's show down pat."

"These stars are almost better than Neil Lane diamonds," praises Naomi.

"I thought we could have one dinner that's free of stress," says Max, nodding to the basket.

"You're the best," sighs Naomi. "Come sit with me."

"Don't have to ask twice," says Max.

He goes to the blanket, Naomi setting her head near the top. Max joins her at ground level. A supernova pulses above them.

"Talk brainy sexy to me," says Naomi, rolling over to hug him from the side.

"Those three stars there?" says Max. "Orion's belt. One of the stars, Alnilam, is brighter than the sun. And that constellation? Andromeda. It's named after a princess who was almost eaten by a sea monster."

"I bet if Andromeda takes off Orion's belt, she'll see another monster," teases Naomi.

"Making the beautiful things of the night naughty," assesses Max. "That is definitely something that wouldn't make my dad's show."

"Neither is this," says Naomi.

She situates herself on top of him, Max running his hands through her hair. Max can barely breathe as their mouths fuse together. They roll on the blanket, toppling the basket, which is only filled with Welch's sparkling cider, club sandwiches, and grapes anyway. He could care less. Naomi's legs tangle with his as she runs her fingers under his shirt. He does his best not to pull at her designer dress, instead sighing her name as she brushes her lips on his neck.

"Nobody's coming in, right?" says Naomi, pausing to gasp.

"I seriously doubt it," replies Max, gently pulling her to him again.

They kiss fervently, the edges of Max's eyes taking in the gold of her dress, until it burns so bright that he has to blink. Is that her dress? Max manages to lift his head, spying a pair of legs and a fist, a fist with a watch he's seen countless times. He stops what will be the last kiss from Naomi. They sluggishly turn their heads.

"Everything alright, sir?" says Turner, frowning, his hat in his hands.

"Just fine," says Micah Miller, checking his watch.

Naomi's body stiffens. She wipes her mouth as if to cleanse herself, as if she's wiping off her embarrassment. Max sighs. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have done this deceitful thing, involving her, despite good intentions. He was just so mad at his father and so anxious to pull something wonderful off for her without a hitch. Here's a hitch.

"You're lucky I'm not taking you in for trespassing," says Micah. "I assume you were the thief of my key. Well, that's now besides the point. We're closing early."

"I'm...I'm really sorry, Mr. Miller," says Naomi, standing and arranging her clothes.

"Dad, she had no idea," says Max quickly.

"I believe she had no idea," says Micah. "And you had every idea. We'll talk when you come home...soon."

Micah fails to register them anymore, turning his heel to exit the Planetarium. Naomi puts a firm hand on Max's back, stroking it. He raises his eyes. The heavens keep going, in perfectly synchronized motion. The moon grows more luminiscent, and then a spacecraft breaks through the heavens and lands on the rocky lunar surface decidely without so much as shaking.


	3. Someone Like You

**III. Someone Like You**

_I heard that you're settled down._  
><em>That you found a girl and your married now.<em>  
><em>I heard that your dreams came true.<em>  
><em>Guess she gave you things, I didn't give to you.<em>

_Old friend, why are you so shy?_  
><em>It ain't like you to hold back or hide from the lie.<em>

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited._  
><em>But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.<em>  
><em>I'd hoped you'd see my face &amp; that you'd be reminded,<em>  
><em>That for me, it isn't over.<em>

_Nevermind, I'll find someone like you._  
><em>I wish nothing but the best, for you too.<em>  
><em>Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said:-<em>  
><em>"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"<em>  
><em>Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead, yeah.<em>

_You'd know, how the time flies._  
><em>Only yesterday, was the time of our lives.<em>  
><em>We were born and raised in a summery haze.<em>  
><em>Bound by the surprise of our glory days.<em>

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,_  
><em>But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.<em>  
><em>I'd hoped you'd see my face &amp; that you'd be reminded,<em>  
><em>That for me, it isn't over yet.<em>

_Nevermind, I'll find someone like you._  
><em>I wish nothing but the best for you too.<em>  
><em>Don't forget me, I beg, I remember you said:-<em>  
><em>"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead", yay.<em>

_Nothing compares, no worries or cares._  
><em>Regrets and mistakes they're memories made.<em>  
><em>Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?<em>

_Nevermind, I'll find someone like you._  
><em>I wish nothing but the best for you too.<em>  
><em>Don't forget me, I beg, I remembered you said:-<em>  
><em>"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"<em>

_Nevermind, I'll find someone like you._  
><em>I wish nothing but the best for you too.<em>  
><em>Don't forget me, I beg, I remembered you said:-<em>  
><em>"Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead"<em>  
><em>Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead, yay yeh yeah<em>

**Someone Like You is the property of Adele.**

**Stuck Like Glue is the property of Sugarland.**

Imagine if they were a world away, two intergalactic lovers like Jake and Neytiri on Pandora, raring up for a battle while clinging to each other at the same time. Imagine if they could fly a mystical beast away from the wrath of his father and settle on the neon grounds of a secret hideaway. Of course that movie only lasted three hours and you needed 3-D glasses. Well, the glasses were recommended. The more adventurous part of his mind recommends that he drive anywhere else other than home. Although, the more adventurous part of his mind had gotten him into trouble in the first place. Who knew the key to the universe could create such annoying consequences?

Checking his hair in the rear view window, he slows down the car and lets out a deep breath. His lungs are contracting under his shirt while his eyes start to burn. Max instinctively presses a button on his car phone.

"I'm calling to make sure you got home safe," greets Max.

He dropped her home, but he made it a habit to phone her after every date since their first date.

"Max!" cries Naomi. "I'm the one that should be asking you that!"

"It's just nice to do," insists Max.

"Talk about your _American Pie_ awkwardness," moans Naomi. "I did not want your dad to get a new definition for... the Big Bang."

"He thinks that name sucks anyway," says Max. "Made it home okay. If I make it out is unclear."

"I wish I could be there to hear how it all goes down, but Annie's introducing me to some former Homecoming queen that could put in a good word for me," says Naomi. "Say the word and I'll pause my primping and come over."

"Don't pause the primping...I caused this mess so I'll fix it," says Max.

"Call me anyway," says Naomi. "Afterwards."

"I will," replies Max. "Now go attend to any hangnails and fallen eyelashes that should happen to appear."

"When have you ever seen me have those things?" protests Naomi.

"Exactly," says Max.

"Ohhhh, I'm so getting you to wax!" kids Naomi, laughing.

"I'd like to see you try," returns Max. "Bye, babe."

"Bye, Big Bang," says Naomi.

The dial tone sounds through the car for a few seconds. Max listens for a moment and then gathers his belongings to go in and face a force more powerful than a rocket ship. He doesn't have to be in outer space to feel like he has limited oxygen. Max loosens his tie, soldiers on. The entire house is in darkness. His mother preferred going to bed early and Melanie used a miniscule lamp and the light of her computer to sketch at this time of night. He'd really have to search to catch a hint of light in her room. But he expected to see the lamps from his father's study fully lit with Copernicus' white form covered by a sheet over his cage. Instead, there's no trace of brightness or sign that anybody else is awake.

Hmmmm, maybe his dad wanted to sleep on it, come up with a good, intelligent argument as to why his son deceived him for a girl he hardly knew. That is like him. Micah could stay mad. He had angry dreams and grumbled his anger as soon as he snapped awake. He wouldn't even speak to his wife on those mornings. Then he'd be as nice as could be at breakfast, swallowing it down, letting it settle in his stomach. But tick him off at work and the anger would return at full-throttle. Micah Miller is a man of many moods. He could be incredibly happy, remarkably mad, and pain-stakingly sad.

That's possibly why Max endeavored to be so laidback all the time. When he sat down with his pretty blonde lab partner months ago, he said hello, realized she wasn't interested in doing anything, and simply went about his work. He only panicked when she didn't do her half, when his grade was in jeopardy. But he coaxed her into an impromptu field trip that basically changed everything and now it feels like Naomi is working twice as hard to make him happy. She shouldn't have to. That's the truth of the matter. So yeah, if Micah's still pumped, Max will let the laidback side of himself take a back seat. Micah's moods aren't the only moods that count.

A chair creaks. One chair in their whole house makes that shrill, cringeworthy noise.

"Turn the light on and come in, Max," says Micah from his study.

Max shakes his head and flips on the switch. Micah is stroking his temples, slouching in the chair.

"Shut the door so your mother can't hear," continues Micah.

He does as he's told, mainly because he doesn't want his mother to hear what they're talking about either.

"And sit down," finishes Micah.

He's tempted to say he'd rather stand but it's late and he's tired. Max sits in a runged chair opposite his father, where that M.I.T. professor probably sat as they decided Max's fate, the fate where his say had no merit.

"The way you conducted yourself with that young woman in my work environment was deplorable," says Micah.

"You're talking like you're my boss," groans Max.

"I'm talking to you like an equal because you're an adult now and should act like one," chastises Micah. "Stealing from your father. That's the behavior of a reckless teenager."

"Newsflash!" says Max. "I am a teenager."

"Is that also your excuse for insulting a distinguished mathematics professor who wants what's best for you?" asks Micah, crossing his arms.

"Okay, I'm sorry I did that," sighs Max. "It was rude."

"Not to mention detrimental to your collegiate career," adds Micah.

"I _have_ a collegiate career," insists Max. "It's just not the one you want."

Micah leans forward, with a grin. What does he have to grin about? If he arranged another meeting with an M.I.T. instructor, this conversation is done.

"You'll see," says Micah, smacking his lips with pleasure. "When you're around those young scholars at the Delta CalTech dinner, and you find yourself in a different class, you'll see. When you're applying for internships when you're an upperclassmen, you'll see."

"But the college rankings...," begins Max.

"College rankings are becoming obsolete," interjects Micah. "Everybody you're competing against has a top college degree, but it's who you know that will get you somewhere. And I know way more people than you do...unless you've come across some top-rate scientists and computer experts in your...hmmmm, eighteen years?"

When you consider that, no, he obviously hasn't been in the field for that long.

"I...I just started at Cal Tech so...," stammers Max.

He goes silent, searching for points, coming up empty. Ugh. Why did his father have this effect on him? Why did he bend the bullet points of an argument until he was proven right? Why can't he be more understanding?

"That's what I thought," says Micah. "Let's discuss your punishment."

"I don't have rules like some little kid," says Max, his cheeks growing warm.

"No, you're an adult so I'm thinking of a more fitting way to reprimand you," says Micah, frowning once more.

What would be a fitting punishment for stealing a key to be with Naomi? Max lifts his eyes in confusion. Then, he glares at his father.

"I swear if you ban Naomi from this dinner...," starts Max.

"Why would I ban an innocent girl from your celebration?" interrupts Micah. "No. I think the answer is simple. You're going to caddy for Ezra Samuelson at the golf invitational and have lunch with him afterwards. This Saturday. Of course I'll go along so you won't say anything to embarrass yourself...or me."

"Saturday is the only day when I'm not working or studying," complains Max.

"Perfect," says Micah. "I can't conceptualize a better way to spend your free time."

Because it's not being spent with Naomi, realizes Max. His father is so see-through sometimes. There's no reason he shouldn't be able to just apologize to his father so they can be done with it. Except for the reason that his father is a bad combination of manipulative and mad.

"Dad, you got your key back!" says Max, standing uprightly. "I apologize...I sincerely do. What else do you need?"

"Do you want your mother to know what you've been up to!" returns Micah, standing as well.

No...since he's already close to alienating his father and doesn't relish alienating his mother. Mothers did not do well with the...private intimacies of their sons. You don't have to watch the movies Naomi references to get that.

"One game, one lunch," sighs Max, staring into his father's eyes. "That's it."

"Marvelous," says Micah, slouching again, this time with a smile. "Marvelous."

Max grits his teeth. "I'm going out."

He stalls when he hears his father release a short grunt, an under the breath chuckle.

"Tell Naomi we're eating at seven," says Micah after him. "It looked like you two had quite the healthy appetite."

Refusing to stare at him again, Max thunders down the steps and out into the night air. He had no intention of getting in, driving as far as he does. It just sort of happened. The best part, he realizes as he lets the steering wheel move until he reaches the pier, is that it was unplanned. Nobody designed his trip here. He keeps his eyes steady after parking. His gaze rests on the endless grains of sand and the stars too numerous to count.

II.

"This notepad smells like strawberries," says Liam, holding the sheets of paper near his face.

"Mhmmm, I got it at the stationary store," explains Adrianna. "I also got mango."

Adrianna speedily checks off a box on her to-do list, framed by pictures of the members of Cobra Starship. She couldn't believe what she and Liam had accomplished in the span of six hours. Donning her designer black winter coat from her recording artist days, Adrianna aided Liam as he arranged the lock-up and did inventory. Next, they cleaned every nook and cranny of the interior section of Offshore. They seperated to do singular jobs after that. Liam made call to distributors while he let Adrianna select music for tonight's clientele. He handled the technical aspects and he was really generous with giving her the more creative tasks. They really gelled, thinks Adrianna. And she's not talking hair products.

"I like mango," mentions Liam.

She slides the other notepad across the counter. Liam takes one sniff and grins.

"Oh yeah," says Liam, pocketing the pad. "And hey, I liked that idea about the root beer floats."

"In case any kids show up," says Adrianna. "They're too young to experience zits. Lucky little gremlins."

"Annie liked...," starts Liam, but then he leaves the counter.

She keeps an eye on him as Liam trudges to the lock-up. Though she'd been his waitress for less than two days, she'd already noticed that Liam likes to go there whenever he needs a moment. She figured it'd be too cold for him but he must've gotten used to it after being in Alaska for so long. No winter coat for him. He particularly went there whenever the subject of his private life came up. How do you spend your Sundays, Liam? To the lock-up. Any plans for the holidays? To the lock-up. Do you like pina coladas and getting caught in the rain? The last one took her awhile when considering the connection to Annie but Adrianna wouldn't be surprised if it had to do with a certain Mexican hotel lobby's playlist. Adrianna thought it would make Liam crack a smile. It did...briefly. Then to the lock-up.

Well, Liam couldn't disappear on her tonight. Their boardwalk performance did the trick. College students, young adults, and barely sixteen year-olds were streaming in faster than Nemo's dad running from a shark. And Adrianna would know best. She's seen that film fourteen times. It constantly made her think of Maisie and who might be covering her eyes when Nemo's mother met the same end as Bambi's mom. So sad.

Adrianna grabs her coat and ducks into the lock-up. Liam is standing as straight as a fishstick in there as she shivers.

"How did Hermie the elf not freeze to death in his little stockings during _Rudolph the Red_-_Nosed_ _Reindeer?"_ says Adrianna, hugging herself.

Liam lets out a small laugh.

"I'll come out," says Liam.

He allows her to go out first, then exits the lock-up. Several parties of patrons are seating themselves at the tables, with no one behind the bar. Yeahhhhh, maybe hiring others should've been at the top of her to-do list. But that stationary wasn't going to buy itself.

"I was beginning to believe you were part polar bear," says Adrianna as she takes off her coat.

"Not the ones that drink Cokes?" says Liam.

"You don't like Diet Sprite so yeah, maybe one of those," teases Adrianna. "Do you want to make Benjamins at this bar or not?"

"Let's do this," says Liam.

Liam high-fives her and heads for the bar. Adrianna assesses the tables. There are some very anxious adolescents who are engaged in a debate about the _Hunger Games_; a pair of older couples talking about the advantages of Thermaflu for their kids; frat boys who are daring each other to stick toothpicks up their nose; eight college girls with one familiar face. Annie Wilson twists her mahogany-colored hair and shifts to playing with a necklace around her delicate neck. Adrianna bites her lip. Eeep, good thing Liam's at the bar and can't see her. Or is she here for him? Surely she'd heard about the bar and surely she'd run into other friends who were coming tonight. They passed out enough fliers. She's surprised Naomi isn't with them. She's relieved Silver isn't with them. Straightening her shoulders, she mentally prepares herself and heads over.

"Hi ladies!" greets Adrianna when she reaches the table with Annie. "Welcome to Offshore! What can I get for you?"

She is so good. The girls flip through the menus on the table. Annie's jaw drops when she notices her waitress. She quickly recovers and looks past Adrianna. So she is here for Liam.

"Hi, Annie," says Adrianna, smiling at her, then to the rest of the girls. "We know each other."

"Obviously," says Annie, fidgeting with her hair.

"We all want the Orange Tropical Twist," says a blonde at the center of the table. "Annie?"

Adrianna writes down the order on her strawberry pad and turns to Annie.

"I'm not sure," shrugs Annie.

"Oh my gosh, I totally know what you want!" cries Adrianna.

The girls giggle. Annie shakes her head in disbelief.

"I seriously doubt it," says Annie.

"Come on," says Adrianna. "I promise I do. Come to the bar in twenty minutes. Liam has a surprise for you."

"Ooooh, Liam!" teases the blonde girl.

"Shut up, Bree," throws back Annie. "I guess I can give him a couple minutes for whatever he's doing."

After tonight, Liam's totally ditching the lock-up. I just set everything in motion, she congratulates herself. This is yet another brilliant idea courtesy of Liam's most loyal employee. Okay, she's his only employee, but he would get the picture. Adrianna beams on her way to the next table. They're fairly friendly. Frat guys are extra kind when they're guaranteed booze. The couples were also nice and told her she had a beautiful name. They really ought to get nametags too, right?

Adrianna manages to get down all the drink orders, trading off with Liam, who fills glasses, mugs, and pitchers with ease. All this and he's able to crank up the sound system with the music flowing to the patio area and the tiki hut. She sets the drinks on the tray just like she practiced all afternoon. She sent a lot of glass clattering to the floor but once you pay attention, the job's a cinch. She deposits different drinks onto the tables of the patio and moves to get her next set of orders. She's smiling until she sees the newest occupants of the patio.

Navid Shirazi pulls out a chair for Erin Silver, her blue and purple-printed dress dancing in the wind. He always pulled out the chair for Adrianna too. Navid wears an orange polo shirt and slacks. He always wore polo shirts on weekend dates with Adrianna too. Navid sneezes. He sneezed around her too. Out of the corner of her eye, Adrianna spies Liam beckoning for her. The large order of Orange Tropical Twists must be ready. She has to help Navid and Silver...pronto. Every customer counts, even customers that hate her. Adrianna ignores the beads of sweat trailing down her back and steps right up to the table.

"Ade!" cries Navid in surprise.

"Will you do anything to talk to us?" says Silver, smirking. "I mean, impersonating a waitress?"

"Ummm, Liam hired me so...," says Adrianna, her voice growing faint.

Silver lets her face fall into her hands as Navid raises his eyebrows. They're clearly not amused.

"I always defended him when people said Liam had the I.Q. of a pencil sharpener, but now I'm having second thoughts," says Silver.

"Be nice," says Navid, throwing Silver a quick glance.

"No, Navid," counters Silver. "How dare you come up to us! Maybe somebody should tell the health inspector how you tamper with people's health. Let's see how long you keep your job then. Liam may feel charitable but I just want another waitress."

Don't hold back or anything, mulls Adrianna. This was her job, like it or not, and she's trying her best. Of course she can't waste time explaining that to Silver, who wouldn't listen anyway.

"I'm...I'm the only one so far," says Adrianna weakly.

Silver sighs. "Who would want to work with you?"

She grabs her purse, slings it across her shoulder, and takes off across the sand. Great. She'd been doing so well with her other customers and she hit the biggest of snags. Navid lowers his head. Wrinkling his nose, he digs into his pocket and tosses a five on the tabletop.

"I really hope this works out for you, okay?" says Navid. "And that you get good tips."

Adrianna nods, tears casing her eyes. Navid leaves her without another second going by. Moments later, he has his arm around Silver as they walk on the beach, away from her. She could run into the lock-up right about now. Oh, no. She can't. The Orange Twists are waiting and she still has to pull off the romantic rendevous for her boss and Annie. She'll just have to scramble. Adrianna scrunches between two frat boys almost bumping their bellies, and gets behind the bar with Liam.

"Why are your eyes wet?" questions Liam.

Wiping them quickly, Adrianna gives him an attempt at a smile.

"Somebody outside blew smoke in my face," waves off Adrianna.

"I'm going to pelt them," says Liam, curling his fist.

"Thanks," says Adrianna, producing a genuine smile. "It's fine. They left. Okay, I have a root beer float to make so you can deliver the Orange Twists?"

"You want me to deliver _my_ signature drink?" says Liam proudly. "Not a problem."

"Remember to show your pearly whites," reminds Adrianna.

"Mmmm," grunts Liam.

"Liam, I'm not playing," says Adrianna. "If I can carry a tray with a manicure, you can be smiley."

"Mmmm," repeats Liam.

"I'll make you a float," offers Adrianna.

"With nuts?" says Liam.

"We can't eat the nuts," recalls Adrianna.

"I knew that'd come back to bite me," mumbles Liam.

He turns up the left side of his mouth and then the right. He's as cheesy as a Sesame Street puppet. Perfect.

"You get the Adrianna stamp of approval," says Adrianna.

Liam makes off with the Orange Twists, arriving at the table. He nearly misses Annie until he catches sight of her neck bling. Adrianna grins mischeviously and starts on Annie's surprise. She spoons two scoops of vanilla ice cream into a mug. The root beer's constantly at the ready, and so is the whipped cream, and...oh no, a missing ingredient. She'll have to improvise. Adrianna bends to retrieve a secret ingredient that Liam doesn't ever have to know about. Liam backs up from the table and heads for the counter. Ugh. He can't talk to the girl? This isn't smooth sailing and Liam's practically a sailor. Annie trails him.

"You couldn't have e-mailed me?" says Annie, sitting on a stool. "It's not like you were in another country."

"Email hurts my fingers," complains Liam. "And yeah, I was in another country. Wait. Where's Alaska?"

"We'll check Wikipedia later," says Adrianna, looking over her shoulder briefly.

"It was too cold to text, anyway," says Liam. "If I knew how..."

"That's a horrible excuse, Liam," sighs Annie. "I showed you how to e-mail and text like twenty times."

"I get confused too," says Adrianna, going next to Liam. "Whenever it says compose message, I compose a song with a message. Navid emailed back all the time and asked me if I was kidding. And I was like, no."

Silence. Annie awkwardly shifts on her stool.

"Look what Liam told me to make for you," says Adrianna cheerfully.

Adrianna presents the root beer float, which looks rather tasty, save for the red lines strewn across the clump of whipped cream. Annie lifts it to get a better view. Liam rubs his forehead in confusion. She takes one bite with the spoon Adrianna hands her and almost spits up.

"We don't have cherries yet so I put some cherry cough syrup in there," admits Adrianna, biting her lip. "Sorry."

Adrianna holds up the bottle of cough syrup. Liam throws up his hands.

"What am I going to take for when I have a cold now?" says Liam to himself.

"The cough syrup's good, Annie," insists Adrianna, pouring a spoonful for herself and tasting it. "Mmmmm, healthy."

"Yeah, it's expired and everything," adds Liam. "The older the medicine, the better the taste. It's like wine."

"How on earth do you two run a bar like...," stammers Annie. "I don't want your nasty expired cough medicine...I can't even with you anymore, Liam. You better get your act together before you think of calling me!"

Annie pushes away the root beer float and starts to storm off.

"Which number should I use?" calls Liam after her. "The one with the area code or the one without?"

"I put my number in your cellphone ages ago!" exclaims Annie.

"I lost my phone," pouts Liam. "The ship's captain said he saw a mermaid, and I went to look and the phone fell overboard, but actually the mermaid was a dolphin...heh, his nose had a Skittles bag on it."

"Don't try to worm back into my good graces with dolphin talk," says Annie.

"Dolphins," says Adrianna, clapping her hands.

"They're the angels of the sea," says Annie wistfully, nodding to the sky.

"Hey, Liam, just tape your phone to the inside of a purse like I do," says Adrianna thoughtfully. "Annie, do you have some tape?"

"I need to go before I rowlf and ruin my dress," moans Annie. "Plus I really do want a root beer. Hopefully, Walgreens isn't closed."

"Can I go?" asks Adrianna.

"No!" exclaims Annie.

Annie cuts through the frat guys throwing Cheetos at a dartboard and walks straight out of the bar. Wonderful. She sent three of Liam's friends running from the bar tonight. She's drawing away business.

"I was trying to help," mumbles Adrianna.

"Ade," sighs Liam.

"But that's what I do best...ruin couples by acting like an idiot," sighs Adrianna, using her shirt sleeve to wipe her eyes.

Liam takes the sleeve from her face. "Stop that."

"Yeah, yeah," says Adrianna, touching her cheeks. "You shouldn't have to dry-clean my tears off my temporary uniform. That's more money gone cause of me."

He smiles, without her asking, and grips her shoulders softly.

"That's something I wouldn't mind doing," consoles Liam. "Come on. I need you. You're not even halfway through your strawberry pad."

She chuckles and checks, although she is certain he's right.

III.

The small flames of the tiki torches are dancing to classic rock blaring over the speakers as Naomi removes her cell from her lavender purse. She figures if she's vying to be a royal than she better dress like one, changing from the gold outfit she wore at the planetarium to the light purple number she's rocking right now. She certainly didn't need any reminders of the romp her boyfriend's father interrupted. How mortifying was that? On the scale of humiliation, it had to be near the top. She can only hope meeting Annie's acquaintance won't be that disastrous.

She'd seen a snapshot of Liam's bar on Navid's camera but it didn't do it justice. Heh, her former beau has really turned the place around. Both portions of Offshore are packed, and many groups are mingling. Still, the bar has a lot more possibilities and is she shocked that Liam hasn't taken advantage of them? Nope. The balcony has no distinctive style. The furniture left something to be desired. This could be an A-plus establishment with the right amount of tweaking. She'll enter the setting like it's first-rate anyway, anything to make an impression.

Naomi searches the room for Annie, coming up short, not just because Annie would be one of the shorter girls in the room. Where is she? She swerves to avoid getting hit by a thrown salt shaker, courtesy of a CU cheerleader still in uniform. She was trying to hit her boyfriend square in the stomach. He laughs before the pepper gets him in the gut.

"If you want to nail my roomie, go ahead!" yells the cheerleader.

Oh, a cheater? Been there, done that. The cheerleader's boyfriend slinks to the floor. Naomi steps over him to view a cheerful blonde motioning for her to join them. Naomi recognizes Bree from the student center. Where is Annie then? It's unlike her to bail. Maybe being around Liam was too much for her. She walks to the end of their table.

They're pretty much all run-of-the-mill pretty CU princess types. Decked in designer duds, casually checking texts or their make-up, demurely sipping their drinks. A single girl stands out among the crowd, though. She has long black hair to her waist, a sun-kissed complexion, and glittering bangles on each arm.

"Never get in the way of salty girlfriends," says Naomi, smiling at the girls. "Hi. Naomi Clark."

The bangles girl nods for Bree to speak, her hazel eyes set on Naomi.

"Hey!" greets Bree. "Annie bounced for some reason. But I'll do the intros. Naomi, Addison. Addison, Naomi."

"Charmed, I'm sure," greets Naomi. "And I'm not talking about the TV show."

Most of the girls laugh, including Bree, but excluding Addison. She pulls the majority of her hair away from her ears and lets it fall to her back.

"Everybody move counter-clockwise," speaks up Addison in a light, airy voice.

To Naomi's surprise, they rise instantly, moving like they're on a conveyor belt. This girl can order around eighteen-year olds without moving an inch? She has to have massive sway on campus. Naomi's come around a lot of "it" girls but she gets the feeling Addison outdoes them all.

"Naomi, sit by me," says Addison, touching the seat with a manicured finger.

"No problem," says Naomi.

She takes a seat, an appealing scent of roses and honeysuckle surrounding Addison. Naomi's certain the perfume she put on for tonight is weaker in comparison.

"Are your highlights natural?" asks Addison.

Strange first question, but she'll go with the flow.

"Every hair is," replies Naomi.

"That's what I thought," says Addison, then turning to the rest of the girls. "I don't want anybody dyeing their hair for Homecoming nominations. We're going for a more natural look this year. That means no wigs, weaves, or extensions, which of course, Brionne, means you're out of the running."

An auburn-haired girl with blonde extensions lets her eyes fall to the tablecloth. That was kind of rude, calling her out like that.

"You went to West Bev?" says Addison as she stares Naomi up and down.

This question is more suitable, especially if she's trying to parlay this conversation into nomination talk.

"Yes," says Naomi. "I was...Homecoming queen there, and prom queen..."

"Stop there," interjects Addison. "Nobody cares about prom. This is the big leagues, Naomi. If you are...lucky to be nominated, you'd be going up against beauty pageant winners, former child actresses, models who are smart enough to get into school, and legacy candidates. You're basically on the bottom rung."

Right, moans Naomi inwardly. Right. This is her greatest fear, that she'll be up against girls that are more poised and polished. Look at Addison. She has the confidence of two Homecoming queens and just as many titles under her name. Naomi's gaze strays to a yearbook Bree is holding.

"Flip the book to page thirty-six," says Addison.

Bree flips through the yearbook. Naomi saw the pictures online. There's no need to torture her if she has no chance. Sliding the yearbook to Naomi, Bree gives Naomi an apologetic glance.

"That's me as queen and my two besties as princesses," says Addison. "But...Danica transferred last semester. That leaves a vacancy. And I guess...I could groom you to be a princess."

Groom? As in, she has a legitimate shot to be included in the court? Naomi's mouth breaks into a grin as she stares at the picture of Addison and her friends. Addison has a beautiful crown circling her head, a flowing white gown touching the stage of the float. The other princesses are in pale pink gowns, a level below Addison. Naomi notices that the freshmen class princess is absent.

"What happened to...Bella Delacorte?" says Naomi.

Every eye at the table flies to Addison, calmly playing with the cords of her white earbuds.

"Mono," says Addison simply.

"Maybe that's why they invented air kisses," poses Naomi.

"Ha," says Addison without laughing. "That's funny."

Naomi beams. She turns the page and starts to read. Addison quickly drops the cord.

"Who's Amanda Spearman and why...," begins Naomi.

"Nobody," says Addison, nearly closing the book on Naomi's fingers. "Honestly, Naomi. This is my personal copy and I only trust Bree with keeping it flawless."

"She was my big sister when we were pledging," says Bree proudly.

"Okay," says Naomi. "I've never had a papercut anyways."

"A small matter to discuss," says Addison. "We're having a Homecoming-related party Saturday night. I'd like to make the rounds, see what the other girls think of you. It's incredibly important that the Greek Council members and athletes approve of you, not to mention my select group of friends."

"These aren't...," begins Naomi, gesturing to the girls.

"Please," says Addison, rolling her eyes. "My friends wouldn't be caught dead at this dump. But I figured I would do Bree a favor for getting my boyfriend's car detailed and make an appearance with _her_ friends."

"My brother's garage is the best!" praises Bree.

Wow. Naomi guesses this would be a bad time to tell them she's friends with the owner of the bar. Plus the bar wasn't so bad. It's a major step up from some of the clubs she visited in high school. What's worse is that nobody is disagreeing with her. They nod their agreement, totally fine with Addison's assessment of them because they're able to be in her presence.

"Are you dating anybody, Naomi?" questions Addison.

Naomi bites her lip. She was nervous about Max meeting her mom, as early as today as a matter of fact, and that was no trouble but she wouldn't be surprised if Addison reacted much differently. If she thinks I have to be groomed, what would she think of Max, wonders Naomi. There's no sense in lying though, especially when she was caught with Max a mere hours before. Secrets have a way of catching up to you. Naomi doesn't need a secret following her over the next few weeks.

"His name's Max," says Naomi.

She goes through her phone until she arrives at a photo of Max lounging poolside at the mansion. Naomi's in the same chair, her legs draped over his. Naomi pauses to admire Max in his trunks, but shakes herself out of it to pay attention to Addison. A magnificently white smile breaks out on Addison's face.

"Max," says Addison. "He's so perfect for the party we're having. You gotta bring him."

"Really?" says Naomi, smiling wider.

"Uh-huh," says Addison. "Just make sure you come first, and he meets you there. That way we can have some girl time."

"Max is very understanding about girl time," assures Naomi. "This is so great. I thought...well..."

"Did you think...," begins Addison. "Oh, Naomi. We live for including everybody in Homecoming festivities. I personally cannot wait to see him in the flesh."

Hmmmm, maybe she did misjudge Addison. She is being incredibly nice and she does seem to believe Naomi's worthy to be in her ranks. She's probably just very blunt in a group and sweeter to her friends. I've had those days, recalls Naomi. Although, when she did criticize the wardrobe of others, it was for their benefit. Truly.

"Can you top me off?" says Addison warmly, putting her glass in front of Naomi.

"My pleasure," says Naomi, standing.

She maneuvers past several dancing couples to find Liam at the bar. Unfortunately, Liam's serving tables, and the last person she'd love to see is tending bar. Adrianna awkwardly parks herself in the middle of the bar.

"Well, well, well," greets Naomi. "You're not in Africa anymore. What happened? Did you steal a tribal song and try to perform it in front of Nelson Mandela as your own?"

"I pedalled a bike to deliver bananas to a village the day before I left," offers Adrianna.

"Riiiiiiight," says Naomi, taking out her Smartphone. "A refill of that orange drink."

"Why do they call those Smartphones?" asks Adrianna. "Is your phone smarter than the phones in telephone booths?"

"Yep," says Naomi dismissively.

"Is that girl's name Brionne?" says Adrianna, nodding to the auburn-haired girl Naomi sat with.

"That's her name," says Naomi, dialing Max's number.

He should pick up. Why he hasn't called her to let her know about the dad situation is a mystery. What if he's eternally grounded? What if he can't watch his beloved SciFi channel?

"She asked Navid out once, with me right there!" fumes Adrianna. "The Shirazis and Greens are family friends or whatever. Later we found out it was this geek party. These popular girls invite nerds and then vote for the biggest nerd at the end of the party. It's so gross. I think she was a freshmen at CU then. Or is it freshwoman? I don't want to be sexist."

"I'm sure you want to be a lot of things," says Naomi. "Besides a liar. So why don't you do your waitress thing so I can bounce?"

Adrianna sighs, takes the glass, and returns with an Orange Twist and a wounded expression.

"Ade, I've seen every actress expression you've done," says Naomi. "They won't work on me. I do hope you get your act together but 'til then..."

Naomi turns her heel and walks back to the table. A geek party? That's something out of a silly teen flick. No way is Addison that immature, and even if Brionne did do that, a classier chick like Addison would've reprimanded her for it. Of course, this is coming from Adrianna, Queen of the Big Fat Liars. She may've fooled Silver, but she's not fooling her.

Her phone vibrates as she sits next to Addison once more.

"Max," says Naomi, raising her phone to view his number.

Addison smiles and sips her drink. "Max."

IV.

Liam shuffles through a mound of paperwork, taking stock of the names in the upper right of each paper. MacGruber, Chuckie Cheese, Kung Fu Panda, Kim Possible, Britney Spears.

"Does Britney Spears still have a career?" asks Liam.

Pausing while clearing a table, Adrianna shifts her apron.

"Are you going to get her to play here?" asks Adrianna happily. "Can I be her opening act?"

"No, Ade," replies Liam. "It's these applications. Why are people filling these out as a joke? This is a real bar and tonight, we made real money."

"Cha-ching!" cries Adrianna, dumping two empty plates into a bin.

"I know, right?" says Liam. "Whatever. People suck."

"They were also drunk," says Adrianna. "Just wait a couple days. We'll get some serious contenders."

Eh, it couldn't hurt. Liam deposits a fresh stack of applications under the posterboard. Their very colorful posterboard. Adrianna put something three new things up there everyday and she'd only been there two full days. Still, he got a kick out of spotting the new additions. Today, there's a postcard with a penguin in a parka. The day before? A photo of the Northern Lights. He'd seen the Northern Lights in person. He should tell her that.

Unfortunately, the chance flies by him. His best friend, wearing a striped shirt and black jeans, strolls in, a CD in his hand. Dixon thrusts out his hand for their trademark handshake. Liam knocks his fist twice, fumbles with the rest. The moonlight from the window highlights his poor attempts. In his defense, they hadn't done it since May.

"What's poppin' off?" says Liam.

"Your lame slang," says Dixon, chuckling. "Dude, I heard this place was blazin' tonight."

"There weren't any fires," says Liam, his brow creasing.

"So you didn't get any cooler in Alaska," groans Dixon. "Alright. I need you to hook a brother up. At least one night of me laying down some tracks. I got enough ill to pay the bills, son."

"Heh," says Liam. "Ill."

"So can I play here?" says Dixon.

"Play what?" asks Liam.

"My music, man!" says Dixon, growing more frustrated.

"Uhhhhhh, let me think," says Liam.

"Give him a shot," calls over Adrianna. "Especially since we can't get Britney Spears."

Dixon nods to Liam, and then does a double take. His jaw drops as he stares at Liam.

"Adrianna?" mouths Dixon.

Liam shrugs. He figured his friends would be confused about his new waitress, but in actuality, he didn't care much. There's no rule that says they have to like their server. Or is there? As long as she doesn't spill anything on them, thinks Liam. Cause they might have to take their pants off and that might get awkward...

"Oh, before I forget," says Adrianna. "I ran to CVS on my break."

Digging into her apron, Adrianna retrieves a small, clip-on nametag for Liam. It's blue and says _Sir Liam_, Offshore Owner Extraordinaire.

"They'll take us seriously now!" proclaims Adrianna.

She displays her own red nametag: _Miss Adrianna_, Head Waitress.

"Score!" says Liam.

He immediately clips his nametag on, Adrianna smiling towards his chest. Liam likes her happy. He hated seeing her tear up or frown, and not just because he had to work with her. She'd done so many things for him already and if nobody else saw how sweet she could be, that's their loss.

"I hope you get the gig," says Adrianna.

She squeezes Dixon's arm before heading into the backroom with the bin of dirty dishes. Dixon watches her go, noticing her backside. Liam punches him on the shoulder.

"Hey!" cries Dixon.

"Sorry," whispers Liam, leaning over the bar. "So what do you think of Adrianna?"

Dixon reads Liam's altered name on his nametag. He points to Liam's name and Liam shrugs.

"Man, that's the kind of girl you would slay dragons for, Sir Liam," jokes Dixon. "Although, I guess Silver would be the one breathing fire if she found out."

"She's actually a really good friend," says Liam seriously.

Cocking his head, Dixon scans Liam's face. Liam meets his eyes with a puzzled look.

"You like her," says Dixon.

"No...I don't...I mean, not like that," stammers Liam. "What tracks are you playing again?"

"Uh-uh, you are not getting off that easy," insists Dixon. "You and her would be the last people I'd expect to hook up. And what about my sister, man?"

Yes, what about her? She made it pretty apparent that he should shape up or ship out. But what if the magic is gone now that he's made it back to port? There are never any guarantees.

"Annie is great," offers Liam. "But maybe it's time for something new."

"Something new named Adrianna?" poses Dixon. "I'd stick with the girl you proposed to. Don't act like that ring you bought didn't mean a thing."

"Are you coming up with lyrics right now? For real?" groans Liam.

"_Don't let Annie keep the ring if it don't mean a thing," _sings Dixon playfully. "Alright, I gotta go. I'll check you later tonight."

"Alright," says Liam.

This time, he nails the handshake, and pats himself on the shoulder once Dixon is gone. Adrianna returns with a box of Foxholes. She sets the box behind the bar, wipes her brow.

"I can help you clear tables," suggests Liam.

"If you can keep up," challenges Adrianna.

"Oh, it's on!" assures Liam.

Adrianna grabs a bin at the same time as Liam, the two of them walking out to the outdoor tables. He momentarily notices how the tiki hut fire shows the redder parts of Adrianna's hair, the smooth creases on her chin, the round folds of her lips.

"Slow poke," says Adrianna, walking right past him.

"Faster than you," waves off Liam.

He picks up two cups, a bowl, and multiple straw wrappers. In the distance, a few teenagers are having their own party since the bar has closed. They exchange playful pushes and kisses, sometimes at the same time. Another couple is laying down, looking at the moon as music plays from a small stereo. Adrianna's eyes meander to the moon as well.

_Some days I don't feel like trying_  
><em>Some days you know I wanna just give up<em>  
><em>When it doesn't matter who's right, fight about it all night<em>  
><em>Had enough<em>  
><em>You give me that look<em>  
><em>"I'm sorry baby let's make up"<em>  
><em>You do that thing that makes me laugh<em>  
><em>And just like that<em>

"You slowed down," kids Liam.

"This is a good reason to," says Adrianna. "Do you ever wish on it?"

"Nah, I'm not big on that," confesses Liam.

"I do," says Adrianna. "I wish I could do so many things over, Liam."

"I wish I could do things over too," says Liam, lowering his voice.

Adrianna settles her bin on a table, and links arms with Liam. He can feel the small hairs on her arm, which is growing increasingly warm beside hers.

"Annie will come around," says Adrianna.

"But you're around," says Liam, putting down his bin.

"I am," says Adrianna, wiggling her eyebrows. "If you can keep up..."

_There you go making my heart beat again,_  
><em>Heart beat again,<em>  
><em>Heart beat again<em>  
><em>There you go making me feel like a kid<em>  
><em>Won't you do it and do it one time<em>  
><em>There you go pulling me right back in,<em>  
><em>Right back in,<em>  
><em>Right back in<em>  
><em>And I know-oo I'm never letting this go<em>

She frees herself from him, running in the direction of the water. Liam doesn't stop to think and races after her. He's not easily beat, managing to grab her by the waist. Adrianna struggles to pull away, kicking her feet in front of her while Liam carries her for a few seconds.

_I'm stuck on you_  
><em>Whutooo whutooo<em>  
><em>Stuck like glue<em>  
><em>You and me baby we're stuck like glue<em>  
><em>Whutooo whutooo<em>  
><em>Stuck like glue<em>  
><em>You and me baby were stuck like glue<em>

He laughs when she's able to separate from him and pushes his chest. Adrianna appears panicked.

"My pancreas!" says Adrianna, wincing and hunching forward.

"Wait," says Liam, coming over. "You're hurt?"

"Sucker!" says Adrianna, jumping up and running.

Liam follows. No matter how much she zig-zags, no matter how far she goes, he follows.

V.

She almost didn't believe it. No, her friend was yanking her chain, sniffing wall paint, going through tongue kissing with Annie withdrawal. Naomi's stilettos pound the paved parking lot, her gaze going from space to space, in search of the truth. Liam has to be mistaken because her boyfriend would not...

Max's nose, mouth, and cheek are pressed up against the car window as Naomi's mouth parts. She rushes to the car door and not so delicately opens it. Naomi nudges him towards her.

"Uggggh," groans Max, his head hanging over his knees.

"Max!" cries Naomi. "What the...you slept in your car?"

"Five more minutes," grumbles Max into his jeans.

"What were you thinking?" says Naomi.

"I was trying to prove a point," explains Max, which is more of a mumbled sentence than a declarative statement.

"And you slept in a car in a spot where you could've gotten robbed or car jacked or...," rattles off Naomi.

"Nobody's stealing this car," says Max, leaning until he's sitting on the hard pavement.

"Liam called me this morning after you called me last night and told me you were fine!" exclaims Naomi. "Were you in the parking lot then?"

"Ummm...yeah," says Max, taking a minute to remember.

Naomi stares at his rumpled clothes, his downcast demeanor, and huddled frame, and she just can't snap at him anymore. He must've gone through the ringer with his father, and he didn't need it from her. She does her best to get his arm around her neck so he can stand.

"Come on," says Naomi. "You would clearly benefit from some beach air."

"You're right," mutters Max.

"Do your parents know where you are?" questions Naomi, leading him to the sand.

"If I stayed there, it would be what my father wanted," sighs Max. "I'm sick of doing what he wants. I've been doing that for twelve years."

"I understand that, but I still don't like that you slept out here," says Naomi.

They veer right, scaring a pack of seagulls devouring a couple of breadsticks.

"He had to check every single science fair project I did," recalls Max. "Do you know how hard it is to be the oldest?"

"I'm the youngest," mentions Naomi.

"Oh yeah," says Max, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "And there is a difference between the youngest child and the oldest child. Melanie can sneak out with a biker for all they care. They'll chalk it up to youthful indiscretion. But it's a big deal if I bring you to dinner."

"Which is today," says Naomi.

"D-day," mutters Max. "Ohhhhh."

Max lets himself fall to the sand. Naomi glances to her left and right, hoping for some magical blanket to show up so she won't ruin her Victoria Beckham-type pencil skirt. She grimaces and allows her butt to go down.

"You can't let them put this much pressure on you," says Naomi, stroking Max's shoulder.

"What other kid of theirs is going to M.I.T.?" says Max. "Melanie's more F.I.T. material but she won't have the guts to go. Neither of us have the guts to tell them no."

"Max, you did," reminds Naomi. "You said no to the school they picked. It's four years of your life, not theirs. Tell them to get with the program."

He releases a sound, which Naomi can't distinguish from a moan or a sigh, until Max is fully chuckling out loud. She laughs too, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I'm imagining my dad's face when I tell him to get with the program," says Max in between peels of laughter.

"It'll be different shades of blush," guesses Naomi.

He stops laughing to let his head meet hers, the wind blowing through their hair, breezes stroking Naomi's bare shoulders.

"I didn't want you worried," says Max apologetically.

"So you made me worry more," says Naomi. "Max, you could've slept over. Next time, promise me, you'll come find me."

"I promise," says Max, kissing her cheek.

"And you kinda owe me," says Naomi.

"I could put your dress in the laundry," kids Max, touching the bottom of her dress.

"Nope, that won't do," says Naomi. "You're going to be my date...for a campus party. Our premiere as a couple at a high-brow function. Instead of Bring Your Own Beer, it's Bring Your Own Boyfriend."

"A campus party," muses Max to himself. "I'm...not wearing a toga."

"Why won't you walk around in a bedsheet for me, you prude?" kids Naomi, pushing him sideways. "No, not that kind of party. Wear what or how little you like."

"When?" says Max.

"Saturday night," replies Naomi.

"I have to go to my dad's golf invitational," says Max, shaking his head. "After that, I'm yours."

Naomi gives him a broad smile. She secretly hopes the plans Max makes with his dad in the future are as pain-free as their plans. If he's spending the night in the car, things must be really bad. It probably has to do with her or perhaps she's one of several conflicts. Whatever the problem, let it be the last one. Max deserves it. He deserves it more than any guy she's met.

"Let's let the whole beach know we're each other's," suggests Naomi. "I'm talking letters in the sand, so when those pervy pilots look down at the sunbathers, they'll wonder who M and N is."

"You're such a girl," teases Max. "Fine."

She drags him by the hand to a large space near the shore. Max locates a large stick to use as a writing utensil.

"If we do it a little ways from this clump of seaweed, at a ninety degree angle...," starts Max.

"Max, stop going on about angles and put the stick in the mud!' exclaims Naomi over the rushing waves.

"I was being a stick in the mud," says Max with a chuckle.

He expertly draws an "M", the sunshine framing the large consonant with light.

"Your M looks like A-cup boobs," jokes Naomi.

"Show me yours," returns Max, lowering his glasses to wink at her.

Naomi sashays to the sand, draws a plus sign next to the M, and finishes her N with a flourish. She crosses her arms and nods her head.

"This is large enough for the pervy pilots, and large enough for me," says Naomi.

Standing with her, Max wraps an arm around her waist. The waves lap at the edges of their names, but it will take quite awhile to wash away. Naomi captures the temporary sign of love with their phone, to make it permanent. Then, she snaps the bearers of the initials, before kissing her fellow artist.

"Are you sad that they won't know who M and N are ten minutes from now?" asks Naomi when their lips part.

"No, because unlike everything else, when it comes to us?" says Max. "I'm not worried."


	4. King of Anything

**IV. King of Anything**

_Oh (oh oh oh)_  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>

_Keep drinkin' coffee_  
><em>Stare me down across the table<em>  
><em>While I look outside<em>

_So many things I'd say if only I were able_  
><em>But I just keep quiet<em>  
><em>And count the cars that pass by<em>

_You've got opinions, man_  
><em>We're all entitled to 'em<em>  
><em>But I never asked<em>

_So let me thank you for your time_  
><em>And try to not waste any more of mine<em>  
><em>Get out of here fast<em>

_I hate to break it to you babe_  
><em>But I'm not drowning<em>  
><em>There's no one here to save<em>

_Who cares if you disagree_  
><em>You are not me<em>  
><em>Who made you king of anything<em>  
><em>So you dare tell me who to be<em>  
><em>Who died<em>  
><em>And made you king of anything<em>

_Oh (oh oh oh)_  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>

_You sound so innocent_  
><em>All full of good intent<em>  
><em>You swear you know best<em>

_But you expect me to_  
><em>Jump up on board with you<em>  
><em>Ride off into your delusional sunset<em>

_I'm not the one who's lost_  
><em>With no direction oh<em>  
><em>But you won't ever see<em>

_You're so busy makin' maps_  
><em>With my name on them in all caps<em>  
><em>You got the talkin' down just not the listening<em>

_And who cares if you disagree_  
><em>You are not me<em>  
><em>Who made you king of anything<em>  
><em>So you dare tell me who to be<em>  
><em>Who died<em>  
><em>And made you king of anything<em>

_All my life_  
><em>I've tried<em>  
><em>To make everybody happy while I<em>  
><em>Just hurt<em>  
><em>And hide<em>  
><em>Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn<em>  
><em>To decide<em>

_Oh (oh oh oh)_  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Oh (oh oh oh)<em>

_Who cares if you disagree_  
><em>You are not me<em>  
><em>Who made you king of anything<em>  
><em>So you dare tell me who to be<em>  
><em>Who died<em>  
><em>And made you king of anything<em>

_Who cares if you disagree_  
><em>You are not me<em>  
><em>Who made you king of anything<em>  
><em>So you dare tell me who to be<em>  
><em>Who died<em>  
><em>And made you king of anything<em>

_Let me hold your crown, babe_

**King of Anything is the property of Sara Bareilles.**

**Sexy and I Know It is the property of LMFAO.**

Tubes and compacts containing rouge, lipstick, eyeshadow, powder, and moisturizer spill out onto the burgundy bedspread. They roll to and fro, here, there, everywhere. Naomi delicately bends over the mountain of make-up products, taking inventory with a steady gaze. What if she puts on too much or too little? What if Miriam Miller prefers those "au natural" girls a la Ivy or "barely wearing any" girls a la Annie? She never thought she'd care so much about palette shades, unless they were Armani.

Of course, this is the start of several preparations for the monumental meal at the Millers. She tried to reassure Max on the beach as best she could, but truthfully? She's just as nervous. Being around a few intelligent families while on her father's business trips, she basically knew what some of them were like. They went to the best schools so discussing scientific properties or politics or new art exhibits wasn't alien to them. They quizzed each other for fun and actually still read newspapers, the tangible newspapers you could get on your doorstep, not the online ones. Each child was bound for something great and each parent made it their goal to make sure they obtained it. The Millers seem no different. If anything, Max is the product of his father and mother's biggest expectations. So they will...they definitely will expect a first-rate girlfriend for him.

Naomi goes to her closet, rifles through some choices. The neckline plunges too low. Strapless won't do. The belted waist makes me look pregnant at certain angles, thinks Naomi, sliding a mocha dress to the back. That's one bombshell the Millers won't receive. If she came in pregnant, they'd throw Max in the fireplace, assuming they have a fireplace that works. Things could be worse. Maybe everything will work out for the best. If she's lost about the subject they're discussing, she can turn to Max, and if anything uncomfortable happens, he'll be there right next to her. They've gotten through far more difficult things, including a plagiarism scandal where each of them protected the other. One dinner won't do any harm.

A constant ringing and an arm with several bangles waving at her from the doorway redirects her attention. Silver pops her head inside. Her best friend's hair just gets shorter and shorter.

"I have some Burt's Bees you can borrow," offers Silver.

Meh, thinks Naomi inwardly, though she smiles. That's Silver's permanent preference, that and most things that are PETA-approved. That's not exactly Naomi's style.

"Can you come in and look at my butt in various dresses?" asks Naomi.

"What are best friends for?" says Silver, finding and sitting on an empty space on the bedspread.

Naomi quickly selects two outfits that go with her pink Michael Kors jacket. She read that Melanie's favorite color was pink on her profile, and when she saw Mrs. Miller at the graduation, she was wearing a nice rose-colored skirt. It seemed to be a popular hue in their household. Naomi holds up a terra rose, tea-length dress.

"Same shade as a fire engine," says Silver dismissively.

"Should be," says Naomi. "I bought it for your bachelor auction. Back when I wanted to melt guys into hot messes."

"Never mind the cause for the auction," says Silver, rolling her eyes.

"I cared about the cause," insists Naomi. "I just cared about getting some too."

She displays a raspberry ice number with spaghetti straps. This is pretty promising, especially since Max hasn't seen her in this.

"Makes me want gelato," confesses Silver.

"Some help you are," sighs Naomi.

"I haven't eaten yet," explains Silver. "Film Club kept me late. I hate defending Hitchcock to morons."

"I hope I don't act like a moron tonight," moans Naomi.

Silver rises from the bed, nudging Naomi to her. "Come here."

Groaning softly, Naomi walks to Silver. Silver puts a comforting arm around her shoulder, despite the bangles poking into her wonderfully tanned skin. Yes, she took a well-needed trip to the spa and worked in a wax.

"Great," says Naomi with faux resistance. "Another Erin Silver pep talk."

"Well, I didn't see Teddy today, so it's your lucky day," kids Silver. "Don't let anybody make you feel bad about yourself. You are startlingly beautiful, savvy, kind, and witty...and remarkably horny so spaghetti straps it is."

"Thank you!" cries Naomi, casting off the others. "Sweet for the fam, and sexy for Max."

Once she has the dress, it's simple to find the appropriate make-up for the ensemble. That's how _her_ brain works. But she seriously doubts that will count for much in Micah's mind. He'd be the toughie. Her own dad isn't that sensitive either. In fact, he never emailed her back when she almost lost her trust fund. He sent his lawyer so at least he cared a little bit. That's what she believes anyway. Still, Micah's willing to dine with her so he can't be too cold.

"Time for total beautification," remarks Naomi, ducking into her bathroom.

"Naomi!" shouts a voice from the hallway.

The voice belongs to Annie, who she asked to let her know when Max came by.

"Max is here already?" cries Naomi, coming out. "I thought I had another hour!"

"No," says Annie, entering the room in a cute kelly green dress. "I have an idea to run by you."

Naomi shrugs and returns to the bathroom.

"Talk while I'm getting ready," says Naomi.

"I think we should buy a pig," says Annie happily.

"What?" cries Naomi, nearly dropping her underwear into the sink.

"Did you watch _Babe_ last night?" asks Silver. "Again?"

"Yeaaaaaaah, but that's not why," replies Annie. "We could have like a teacup pig. They are soooo cute. I saw one on _Entertainment Tonight_ and he was so adorable."

A pig? Honestly? Is this what you have to deal with when you have a friend from Kansas? But no, she had a friend from Kansas that detested anything farm-related so this must be an Annie thing.

"Aren't those adorable creatures really expensive?" questions Silver.

"Maybe we could find a discount one," says Annie. "Or if we all chip in..."

"So you basically want me to pay for part of a pig?" realizes Naomi. "The largest part."

"We need a pet," says Annie sweetly. "Come on, guys."

That's some designer pet. But she can't waste minutes mulling over the possibility. She has to be perfect and priceless, so pig debates can wait.

"Let me think about it," promises Naomi.

"Awesome!" cries Annie, joining Silver on the bed.

As she dons her stockings, Naomi hears another set of feet. Now what? She can't accessorize in peace? Naomi stretches her neck to view Ivy, worming her way in between Silver and Annie on the bed. Ivy's in a white tank and a pair of blue pajama shorts only she could pull off.

"Can I crash in here for a few?" says Ivy. "Raj keeps saying how hot Keira Knightley is while watching _Bend it Like Beckham _scenes. I think he wants me to cut my hair."

"Men are so clueless," says Annie, punching a pillow.

"Hey!" says Naomi. "Stop hitting my silk cushions!"

"Sorry," says Annie, smoothing the cushion out.

"That's a kind of okay pink dress," remarks Ivy. "Isn't your dinner dealio tonight?"

"Yes, and you guys keep coming in with random requests and thoughts," laments Naomi. "I love having Ya-Ya Sisterhood moments like any other girlfriend, but it's seriously weird."

The other girls stare wordlessly at each other for a few seconds.

"Ivy," says Annie finally, squeezing her shoulder. "We're getting a pig."

"Heh," says Ivy. "Righteous."

II.

An extra large Stewie Griffin nearly knocks Liam on the noggin as a troop of teenagers walk on by without so much as a glance. In a sea of gigantic _Despicable Me_ minions, Looney Tunes characters, and Elmo dopplegangers, he wonders how they can stand out despite the persistent cries of his happy-go-lucky co-worker.

"Be the first to quench your thirst...at Offshore tomorrow night!" shouts Adrianna, then presenting a packaged item to two men in fatigues.

They must be on leave. Liam compares his guns to theirs. The army does a body good. He pretends not to care. They stare at the item cluelessly.

"Crab lollipops!" explains Adrianna. "A mix of salt and sweet. Like a chocolate-covered pretzel."

The lollipop is shaped like a crab, but has Offshore printed in black ink where its eyes should be. As it turned out, that stationary store did novelty candy for a relatively cheap sum. They were done by noon and they had at least two boxes.

"I like pretzels," says the broader of the two in a deep voice.

"Enjoy Santa Monica Pier!" shouts Adrianna before they go.

"Thanks, lady," says the other, instantly eating his candy.

Despite the overwhelming success of yesterday, Liam and Adrianna decided that more publicity was in order. They couldn't trust word-of-mouth alone, especially since school exams were on the horizon. What if people actually stayed in...to study? Perish the thought. Santa Monica Pier was the place to be. The locale is rarely empty and you can always catch a tourist family or two. Besides, it's Sunday and the bar will be closed the whole day. Might as well make use of the free day and the good weather.

"Make sure to take one for yourself, Liam," says Adrianna, fetching twelve from the box and handing him one.

"That's okay?" says Liam.

"You paid for them," reminds Adrianna. "I named mine Shelly Long Arms. What about you?"

Liam assesses the lollipop and smiles faintly. "Crabby Pants."

"Perfect," laughs Adrianna. "You are a genius and a half."

"I'm like Mark Smuckerberg," brags Liam. "The guy with the movie that got nominated for Oscars. He sold jelly."

"And sold it on Facebook?" says Adrianna pensively. "Right, right. You're totally like him."

They stand in the area just before the carnival games and rides. Anxious children drag their parents to the Tilt-A-Whirl, the bumper cars, and a rollercoaster whose rattles almost send Liam to the wooden floor. The pier is incredibly loud and busy this time of day, during most of the weekend. He never took Annie here or any other girl. This wouldn't be his ideal date. Drag racing to In-n-Out Burger or making out in a vintage car backseat is much better. He stuffs his personal lollipop into his back pocket and thinks happily about his former car's leg room.

"Hey, there's Dixon!" calls Adrianna.

Sure enough, his best buddy's coming through a stream of pier visitors. He wears a breezy white shirt and designer jeans. He must've come straight from a BET interview but then Liam realizes Dixon's not that famous...yet. Ugh, Dixon promised he'd introduce Liam to Lil' Wayne about five months ago.

"What are you two doing here?" asks Dixon.

"We're handing out crabs," answers Adrianna.

"Ewwww," says Dixon.

"Lollipop crabs," clarifies Liam. "Advertising. Wanna help?"

"No thanks," says Dixon.

"You don't want to give people crabs?" says Adrianna innocently.

"Do you guys listen to yourselves when you speak?" questions Dixon.

"No?" says Liam. "That's your job."

"I can't focus that much sometimes," admits Adrianna.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," says Dixon. "Excuse me for a moment."

Stepping to the side, Dixon starts to scroll through texts while Liam and Adrianna stare at him. A seagull lands near Dixon's foot and goes around him in a circle.

"Dixon must be smart to go through all those texts," sighs Liam.

The seagull tries to put his beak into Dixon's shoelaces.

"I like how he's good with animals," says Adrianna.

Their joint awe is interrupted by a very familiar face. Liam smiles speedily, wondering if the person has as many fond memories as he does. It's nice to be remembered.

"Ugh, you," says the boy he gave the flier to yesterday.

He's with his older brother today, who's making out with his goth girlfriend rather than baby-sitting. They smack lips and walk, smack and walk.

"Did you tell your brother about Offshore?" asks Liam.

"I'll tell you to get lost," says the boy.

"Well, we have candy today," offers Adrianna. "Your tongue can be red. It defies the laws of like...nature."

"You're lucky you're pretty or else I would've been gone by now," argues the boy. "Leave me alone."

The boy takes the arms of his brother and the girlfriend, who manage not to pause for air. They start down the pier until Liam feels a tug on his back pocket.

"Gimme that!" says the boy, stealing the lollipop.

"Crabby Pants," mourns Adrianna, hugging Liam from the side.

"Finders keepers," sighs Liam, delivering a steely stare to the pickpocket. "Losers weepers."

"Offshore opens at seven on Monday!" yells Adrianna in the boy's direction.

"He won't come," says Liam, crossing his arms.

But he can't be mad for too long as he spies two hermit crabs poking at each other's shells in a small compartment a small girl carries. They're having a duel. This must be the miniature version of Medieval Times. Liam laughs a little.

"We should come to the pier more often if that puts a smile on your face," notes Adrianna.

"You don't?" says Liam.

Hanging her head, Adrianna shifts her eyes from the lollipop boxes to a Cinnabon station. Either this has to do with her past relationship or she must really miss sweet buns.

"The last time I spent more than an hour here was...with Navid," admits Adrianna. "He was trying to cheer me up."

"Oh," says Liam.

Great. She's probably reliving how Navid cheated on her not too long after, and he's the reason she's doing it. He thought if any of the relationships in their circle of friends would last it would've been him and Annie, and Navid and Adrianna. But a lack of communication quietly killed both of them, with Silver ultimately replacing Adrianna in Navid's heart. Who could've known it would be worse for Adrianna? Certainly not him. Well, what if he cheers her up? This is a decent place to accomplish that.

"We could stop advertising and maybe we could...," starts Liam.

Adrianna stares at him hopefully, until a pair of fingers tap her elbow. Liam raises his eyebrows.

"Hey, Ade," says Dixon. "My recording session was cancelled. Mind if I treat you to some cotton candy or caramel popcorn?"

Dixon delivers his trademark smile. That smile could make that evil Voldemort dude volunteer at a nursing home.

"I'm sure Liam would let you," says Dixon, nodding pointedly at his friend.

Wait, so he wants his permission? Adrianna moves back her hair, glancing at the ground and at Liam. What does that mean? She'd like to go or she isn't sure or...why don't women come with a manual? They are so hard to read.

"One moment," says Liam.

He drags Dixon to the side. They're going to discuss this like men, using words they learned in school and avoiding the real questions. That's how Liam rolls.

"But...but Navid's your best friend, man," says Liam.

"I'm sure he'd be okay with it," says Dixon. "I mean, he did date Silver first so he has no room to talk."

"Still," says Liam, and leaves the sentence hanging.

"Still what?" says Dixon. "You said you weren't interested, and I assume Teddy isn't. I'm not stepping on anybody's toes."

"I'll step on your toes if you don't treat her right," promises Liam.

"Stop being so protective of her," says Dixon. "She's a grown woman. I know how to treat the ladies."

"Buying them FYE gift cards isn't treating the ladies," argues Liam.

"They liked those gift cards, man," says Dixon, popping his collar. "Besides, Ade's been in a dry spell for a ridiculous amount of time. She could use a date and so could I."

"Bogus," mumbles Liam.

"Why are you being a dillweed?" says Dixon.

"I can be a dillweed if I want to be a dillweed," defends Liam. "Fine. Go ahead. Work your Midwestern charm where you get her some chicken strips or whatever."

"Good idea," says Dixon, patting his chest once. "Thanks."

Watching him return to Adrianna, and Adrianna return the suckers to the box, Liam ignores the tiny pangs circling his own chest. Like he swallowed a box's worth of FYE gift cards. They're just piercing every part of him.

"I'll see you later, Liam," says Adrianna, waving.

"Yeah, we'll see you later, Liam," says Dixon, putting an arm around Adrianna.

Without a selling partner, without a girl, without a lollipop. This is not how he anticipated the day ending. What did he mean by dry spell? That doesn't mean he's going to move in for a kiss or more, right? Liam pulls at his shirt until it snaps back hard against his chest. This sucks. You know, he better follow them, just to check that Dixon keeps it classy and that Adrianna doesn't get hit in the head by any balloon animals. A girl with a balloon fox is approaching him as a matter of fact.

"My friend texted me that there was a cute guy handing out lollipops," says the girl, her unamused father staring at Liam.

"Take 'em all," says Liam, giving her the last twelve.

"Thank you!" says the girl.

"Come on, Hayley," says her father. "He seems a bit...desperate."

III.

She meant to say how handsome he looked tonight, more than usual. It isn't the clothes so much, though those are nice, a navy blue suit, crisp white shirt, and blue silk tie. Moreso, it's a calm, practiced or not, accompanying Max with every move he makes. They drive steadily to their destination. No music plays on the stereo. No window is open. No air conditioning or heat flow from the vents. For the first time since he's been home, they're not caught up in each other but caught up in their own thoughts.

"The Country English Inn isn't too swanky," says Max after a prolonged pause.

"Well, with a name like that...," says Naomi, her voice dropping before adding, "I'm glad."

Naomi did a bit of research on her own. She went online, bringing up both Miriam's school's website and the scheduled events at the planetarium. The task was to find little pieces of information she could sprinkle around if the conversation stalled. For instance, Ms. Miller's class is currently studying the rainforest. Well, hello? She is totally pro-rainforest salvation, and she watched _Ferngully_ like four times growing up. Ethan tried to copy the rapping bat and got on her nerves. The planetarium is sponsoring a lecture series on "Why Pluto Should Remain a Planet". Naomi remembers when that was trending. Plus she believes in rooting for the underdog so yay, Pluto. She'll fill in what needs filling in when necessary. For bonus points? She's seen every episode of Project Runway. Melanie's covered. But if they ask her about endangered species or theorums or pattern making...um, little help?

"You look soooo pretty tonight," mentions Max, throwing her a short appreciative glance.

"It only took six hours _max_, Max," teases Naomi.

"You've been itching to say that since I picked you up, haven't you?" says Max chuckling.

"Timing is everything," replies Naomi. "But I do think this is good timing to meet your folks. Could you imagine if they met me right after graduation?"

"Neither of us would have heads," says Max.

"Yeah, and I like mine," says Naomi. "And I like yours...a lot."

"I like yours, too," laughs Max.

They reach the street where the medium-sized inn sits on the corner. Pulling into the driveway, Max parks next to his father's trusty red Prius. The adjoining restaurant is gorgeous in a simple kind of way. It reminds her of one of those Southern gable houses with the long glass windows, the wooden deck patio, the homey earth tones, and a few golden chandeliers.

"It's almost like we've been transported back in time," says Naomi.

"There might be moments tonight where we wish that was the case," says Max.

Max and Naomi leave the vehicle, Max locking the door. They both brought their cameras and phones, with Naomi baring an additional item. Max stopped at a floral shop so Naomi could pick up a bouquet she ordered. More mature couples brought the parents a gift the first time they met their significant other's parents. That's exactly how she'd like the Millers to see her relationship with her son. She chose some fuschia bougainvillea, flowers from Brazil whose petals resembled stars. Perfect plants for a fan of tropical flowers (Miriam) and a teacher of stars (Micah).

"Are you sure those aren't too extravagant?" asked Max when she walked out with them.

"No," replied Naomi. "They deserve the best bouquet. Besides, they're another great accessory I can brandish for awhile."

The two of them step up to the restaurant porch, Max tenderly taking her free hand.

"Let us come out alive," whispers Max.

"We've got this," asserts Naomi.

They enter the lobby of the restaurant, the main room buzzing with activity. Multiple well-dressed families are seated around tables with white tablecloths, shiny utensils, and plates with pleasant aromas. Certain tables have white lilies or purple orchids in silver vases but they're no match for her arrangement. Naomi holds her flowers closer to her frame.

"Reservations...for Miller," says Max as soon as a hostess greets them.

"Private dining room," says the hostess. "This way, please."

The hostess leads them to a room on the left. Naomi views the rest of the Millers, each of them standing as Max and Naomi enter. Micah wears a double-breasted, grey suit, a black and gold bowtie and hankerchief perfectly arranged in their appropriate spots. Naomi almost releases a sigh when she views Miriam in a conservative but beautiful white pantsuit. Spaghetti straps are far from conservative. Thankfully, Melanie wears a sleeveless, black cocktail dress that reaches her knees. Naomi's similarly exposed in comparison.

"Max," greets Micah, with a stilted smile. "Naomi."

Miriam bypasses pleasantries, doing something unorthodox based on the surprised expression on Max's face. She comes over to hug Naomi gently, Melanie doing the same. Naomi eagerly returns the hugs. She wasn't expecting them either.

"These are for you," says Naomi, presenting the bouquet to Miriam.

"Oh!" cries Miriam. "These are...lovely. They were removed from a sustainable rainforest, correct?"

"Yeaaaaaaah," says Naomi with the most obvious uncertainty in the world.

Max squeezes her waist while Naomi nervously watches Miriam touch the flowers. Why didn't she ask about the stupid whereabouts of those things?

"Is that a Michael Kors jacket?" cries Melanie.

"Melanie," says Micah authoritatively.

"Yes," answers Naomi speedily. "Spring collection."

"Let's have a seat, shall we?" says Micah, gesturing to the table.

Note to self: avoid discussing fashion with Micah, thinks Naomi. She takes a seat next to Max on the right side of the table, with Miriam and Melanie on the other side. Micah sits at the head of the table, clearly comfortable there. He moves his forks until they're in perfect alignment.

"We thank you for being punctual," says Micah, nodding at Naomi. "That's not always the case with Maxwell."

Max immediately stiffens. "I try, Dad."

"I was just jostling you," waves off Micah. "So Naomi, how are classes going?"

"Pretty good," says Naomi. "Um, my favorite class is fashion merchandising."

Melanie opens her mouth to speak, then instantly shuts it when Micah tosses her a pointed look. Ooops, apparently, the note to self didn't stick.

"And...science," adds Naomi. "I love science."

Creasing his brow in confusion, Max puts a bread roll on his plate. Micah leans forward, fingers tapping his chin.

"Which branch of science?" questions Micah.

"All...all the branches," replies Naomi, her left leg shaking under the table. "The whole scientific family tree. No science left behind."

"That's how Max's father and I met," shares Miriam. "He helped me with a science project."

Talk about trippy. That's how she met Max, though she's certain Max has told them the story. Or has he?

"Max and I were lab partners," says Naomi. "The project was on dirt."

"Soil," corrects Micah.

Oh, so Max told them the story.

"Soil is dirt, Dad," says Max, rubbing his forehead.

"Stop getting testy, Maxwell," says Micah, folding his napkin and setting it in his lap. "I'm just getting to know the girl. She brought up the subject."

"Can we eat?" groans Max.

"I told them to wait ten minutes so we could talk," informs Micah.

Max holds his napkin to his mouth. Naomi watches him mouth "why" into the fabric. Ten minutes? What if she messes up again? What if she can't get her stories straight? She already didn't use the right term for the project they did together.

"What did you learn during your experiment?" asks Micah, setting his sight on Naomi.

"Ummm, we ended up doing it on a cute, endangered owl," explains Naomi. "Max and I stayed out late to take a picture of one."

"How enchanting," says Miriam, beaming. "Awareness is so important."

Naomi trades a grin with Max. Well, at least Mom is slightly impressed.

"What country is the owl a native of?" questions Micah.

Uh-oh, she can't recall. South America? Definitely not Africa or Australia. Max mentioned this many times but it must be at the rear of her memory bank. Naomi clears her throat, then straightens one of her straps.

"Why don't you ask me, Dad, since you're so interested?" interjects Max.

"Since you guys were a team, I assumed Naomi would know," says Micah. "Unless she did less than half of the work."

"She did do half the work!" exclaims Max.

"We have a bird," comments Miriam, attempting to relieve some of the tension. "Copernicus."

"He's hardcore gangsta," says Melanie, raising the roof.

This elicits laughter out of the women, whereas Micah and Max have remained in silent glowering mode. Micah takes up his water glass and starts shaking the ice. The barely there sound is met by a waiter instantly coming into the room.

"Appetizers," says Micah.

The waiter disappears as hurriedly as he came. This is going to be a long dinner. However, despite the awkward pre-appetizer conversation, Miriam and Melanie put in the effort to talk to Naomi about more comfortable topics. The chatter ranged from what adventurous three-year olds ate to discussing a picture of Jack on Naomi's Smartphone to what methods they'd employ to lure Max down for the whole week of Spring Break. Max occasionally spoke especially when a lull occured. Meanwhile, Micah spent the entire fifteen minutes...staring at her. Naomi caught him in the corner of her eye, simply waiting, probably waiting for her to screw up.

Taking away the remnants of the delicious avocado with cilantro dressing appetizers, the two waiters begin setting the table for the salads.

"Trust me, Naomi," says Miriam. "You haven't lived until you've had the lemon-baked chicken."

"With the sweet tea," mentions Melanie.

"This is infinitely better than my stock of TV dinners," says Max, unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Is that the typical diet at Cal Tech or...," says Micah without bothering to complete his contribution.

"No," says Max, adjusting his glasses. "I have a good meal plan."

"Which we read about in the campus packet," recalls Micah. "You remember, Miriam? We only had...what was it, three days to peruse the offerings of the school you picked? You weren't even familar with the gen ed requirements."

"They changed this year," sighs Max.

"Well, it'll be something to discuss with other students when we go to the Delta ceremony," says Micah, sitting straight as the salads arrive.

"Speaking of the ceremony, what should I wear?" says Naomi to Max. "I'm not sure what the attire would be for an academic soiree."

"An academic soiree," repeats Micah to himself.

The tone almost sounds patronizing. Almost. Naomi grips the end of the tablecloth.

"Wear whatever you want," reassures Max.

"There aren't any academic soirees at CU, are there?" asks Micah.

"I...I guess they do," stammers Naomi. "Ummm, they do have the Delta thing and Phi Beta Koopa."

"Kappa," provides Micah. "Would your...grade point average be what they're looking for or..."

"Dad, _enough_," says Max strongly.

"No, that's alright," says Naomi, smiling softly. "I'd like to try for a 3.0 this year. That was my goal for senior year at West Bev too."

"Three point oh?" says Micah, examining his spoon. "Really?"

"It's a perfectly respectable goal," defends Max.

"You could aspire for a little more, Naomi," says Micah as he stares at her. "Surely, you agree?"

But that's as good as she's done in the past. She'd hate to tell him that, but that is her main goal. Her mom thought it would be a great achievement. Of course the Millers aren't like her mom, not by a long shot.

"Yeah, even if it cuts into my Homecoming activities," replies Naomi.

"Homecoming?" cries Micah. "What an utterly silly invention. I have no idea why girls work themselves into a tizzy over a crown and temporary popularity."

Silly? That's how he sees Homecoming, as silly? Okay, it wouldn't pave the way for her to be a professor or chemist, but it was fun. Naomi does her best to keep her smile from fading. Max isn't smiling, pressing his hands firmly on the table.

"Because it makes her feel good inside," challenges Max. "Maybe she likes the _idea_ of having a fuller college experience. Imagine that."

"It's a waste of time," dismisses Micah.

"This dinner is a waste of my time if you don't stop acting like a jerk!" shouts Max.

"Chicken's coming out," says Melanie shyly, as the waiters quietly come inside.

"I'm just trying to improve the girl's future," says Micah. "God knows if she's thought about it."

"Everything she likes, you belittle!" says Max, his cheeks growing crimson. "Attack who you're really mad at...me!"

"Oh, never mind," says Melanie, nobody else noticing the chicken appearing in front of them.

"You want to talk about your future?" shouts Micah. "You're still dating the girl that caused you to plagiarize her paper and put a black mark on your permanent record, to come back to California, to enroll in a college you hadn't thought about in seventeen years! And I'm supposed to sit here and act like she's the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

Naomi's shoulders shrink. Her eyes tear. She wouldn't have believed she'd heard the words coming out of his mouth if she weren't frozen in her chair so she could hear every last word. They do blame her. She secretly knew, but now it's confirmed. They hate her for the trouble she's caused Max.

"You just let her come so you could yell at her," seethes Max. "That is just like you!"

"Micah, please tell me that's not the truth," says Miriam, throwing a sympathetic glance at Naomi.

Refusing to say anything, Micah stands and walks right past Naomi, out into the cold autumn air, going through a glass door. Max bangs the table and exits the room afterwards. Naomi closes her eyes, opens them to stare at the exotic flowers off by themselves. Her mind might be playing tricks on her but they already appear to be wilting.

IV.

Liam lingers by a game booth, the continuous drumming of feet against boards creating a maddening rhythm. As a set of water pistols shoot water into the mouths of clowns, both the necks of the clowns and Liam go up inch by inch. They stop at the ringing of a bell.

"Winner...number seven!" cries a guy in stripes.

The vendor gifts a ten-year old boy with a stuffed Spider-man. Where are the stuffed Mary Janes? Women get no respect. Dixon better be showing Adrianna respect or he'll do good ol' Dix how Spider-man did the Green Goblin. Does whatever a spider can, indeed. In the cover of nighttime, he can do lots of things.

He stretches his neck with the clowns a second time, taking in Adrianna polish off a swirly vanilla and chocolate cone. At least he's not too cheap to get two flavors. Props for that, he supposes. Dixon leads Adrianna to a milk bottle carnival game. That's just wrong. Dixon hates milk.

"See anything you like?" says Dixon.

Adrianna scans the row of prizes.

"Can I have a milk bottle?" replies Adrianna.

"Nah, nah you can't," answers Dixon. "Let's try another."

They move, and so does Liam, keeping in step with them. He has no clue why he's spying. He could've stayed where he was, hawking his bar, potentially bringing in more money before it got dark. That would've been the smart thing to do. So why is he here? Dixon hasn't tried anything stupid so far. He's downright, annoyingly charming come to think of it. Yet he can't leave his perch. Is the reason...that he more than likes a cheerful co-worker that can sing at the drop of a hat? Nope, no dice, not going there. Then why'd he think of it in the first place? Liam grabs his hair, lets it go. He's going to go home. Go, Liam, go.

Dixon and Adrianna halt at a Test-Your-Strength game. He makes a muscle and kisses it.

"I strong like bull," says Dixon.

Adrianna giggles.

Going, says Liam, advancing to Dixon and Adrianna.

"Hola!" greets Liam.

Adrianna's face brightens.

"Liam, what are you doing here?" cries Adrianna.

"And speaking Spanish," says Dixon, confusion crossing his face.

"The bar was slow...or closed...or something," says Liam. "I got hungry for Dippin' Dots."

"I love Dippin' Dots," praises Adrianna.

"Dippin' Dots is that way," says Dixon, gesturing to the counter. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I'm going to win Ade a prize."

"Awesome," says Ade, clapping her hands.

Win her a prize? That's not his job or whatever. You can't just go around winning stuff to impress girls. Who does he think he is? Robin Hood?

"Come on up and test your strength!" says a vendor with silver whiskers. "Try your luck, lad."

Rubbing his hands together, Dixon works out the kinks in his shoulder and takes the mallet. A small crowd is forming. Mainstream music pounds out of the pier's speakers.

_When I walk in the spot, (yea) this is what I see (okaay)_  
><em>Everybody stops and they staring at me<em>  
><em>I got a passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it, show it, show it, show it...<em>  
><em>I'm sexy and I know it <em>

Adrianna nods her head to the beat, watches with bated breath. I want a bated breath, thinks Liam, then shaking his head free from the thought. Dixon raises the mallet and hits the bell, a smaller bell going to a marker labelled **King Kong**.

"Good first attempt," says the vendor. "A couple more marks and you win a prize."

"Weak," says Liam, staring directly at Dixon.

"Oooooh," say a few watchful girls.

"Like you could do any better," waves off Dixon.

"Don't make me shut you up, son," challenges Liam.

"Say what?" says Dixon. "Awwww, no. I'm going to break that bell like it's a ribbon. Show me what you got, _son_."

"You're about to get pulverized," promises Liam.

"Stop the violence," whispers Adrianna, then licking her ice cream.

"We got a match!" says the vendor excitedly.

The exclamation brings forth an increase in the number of crowd members observing his game. Adrianna stands at the front, glancing between them. Dixon is about to bite the dust, vows Liam inwardly. That's for certain.

_Yo, when I'm at the mall, security just can't find them all_  
><em>When I'm at the beach, I'm in a speedo trying to tan my cheeks (whaat?)<em>  
><em>This is how I roll, come on ladies it's time to go<em>  
><em>We headed to the bar, baby don't be nervous<em>  
><em>No shoes, no shirt, and I still get service <em>

"Game on," says Liam, pumping his fist.

Liam throws a dollar in the vendor's direction. He greedily collects it, stepping sideways to let Liam play. Without delay, Liam raises the mallet and the smaller bell almost goes to the top, stopping at the **Superhuman Stud **level. Adrianna claps with renewed force. Liam goes down a line of girls, grazing their hands and dancing until the vendor stops him.

"Close, but no prize!" reminds the vendor.

"My turn!" says Dixon, encouraging the crowd to cheer for him.

They do, several teenage girls hopping with enthusiasm. Dixon removes his shirt, practically causing a frenzy.

_(Ahhh) Girl look at that body _

_I-I-I work out_  
><em>(Ahhh) Girl look at that body<em>  
><em>I-I-I work out<em>

Dude, was he recording songs with a barbell in the other hand? Liam purses his lips. They did not need to take off their shirts for this. That was all for show.

"You're going down, Court!" says Dixon.

He bangs the bell, reaching the same level as Liam's first attempt. Liam's lips twist into a smile. Ha, he wishes!

"Lemme show you how it's done, Wilson!" says Liam.

For good measure, he removes his shirt, eliciting a new wave of screams. Adrianna holds one hand to her forehead, pretending to faint. Liam notices her and flexes.

"Abslicious!" proclaims Adrianna.

The girls yell their agreement. Dixon glowers at his opponent, then gets to the ground. He's doing...the worm, his old stand-by from their West Bev days.

_Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle yeah_  
><em>Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wig-yea, yea<em>  
><em>Do the wiggle, man<em>  
><em>I do the wiggle, man (yea)<em>

His body wobbles along the wood floor, going up and down, up and down to the beat. Liam's almost hypnotized. He coughs and regains his composure. Adrianna offers him a curious look, but he can tell she kind of likes it. That lame worm always works. What can he do? Hmmmm.

Liam gets into a stance, starts revolving his arm in a repetitive motion, working from side to side.

_I'm sexy and I know it..._  
><em>Ayyy, yeah<em>

"Yeahhhhhhh," says Liam proudly. "Yeahhhhhhhhh."

Nobody can resist the sprinkler. The other girls go silent, giving each other weary looks. They didn't like this? Are they human? He glances at Adrianna. She's trying to imitate the move, ice cream cone held intact.

"Are we forgetting the game?" moans the vendor.

"Oh," says Liam, stopping to retrieve another dollar, his last dollar.

This hit has to make that bell soar. He raises the mallet, putting everything he has into it, every muscle, every ounce of sweat, every ounce of energy he didn't use for his amazing rendition of the sprinkler. Bam! The bell shoots up and clangs the highest point possible.

"Yes!" screams Adrianna.

"I'm king of the bells!" shouts Liam. "And what?"

"What what!" cries Adrianna proudly.

"Aw, man," moans Dixon, retrieving his shirt. "That's not even...that's not even right."

"I assume the lady wants to pick the prize," says the vendor.

Liam does a little bow and allows Adrianna to step up. She picks out a large, purple giraffe. The stuffed animal's bigger than his cash register, and he can't believe he wasted two bucks on it, but Adrianna's smile aimed at him is worth it.

"This will match my room," says Adrianna.

"Enjoy," says the vendor.

The two boys and Adrianna walk along the pier. Liam remains shirtless until they reach the end of the carnival section. He was wondering why he was so cold.

"That was fun," says Adrianna. "Thanks, Liam...and Dixon."

"Whatever," mutters Dixon. "Um, have you eaten dinner, Ade?"

"Not tonight," replies Adrianna.

Ugh, it's starting again. The poking in his stomach. Liam crosses his arms over his newly warm chest. He has to nip this in the bud.

Suddenly, they're surrounded by countless wheels crossing the wooden pier. Several skateboarders whizz by the trio. Liam checks if Raj is among them. No, but they're so close he can smell cigarettes on the last boy's breath. Adrianna releases a loud cry.

"Liam, they almost hit your foot!" says Adrianna.

They did? Wait, what if they did? Liam raises his foot, slightly off-kilter. He groans.

"Owww," moans Liam. "They did get my big toe."

"Oh, no," says Adrianna. "You can't drive your car with an injured toe. I'll take you to the bar."

Dixon releases a long sigh, watching Adrianna wrap an arm around Liam. She leads him forward and away from Dixon. Liam smiles at Dixon behind her back. Dixon throws up his hands. The sprinkler...works every time.

V.

All that preparation and she was worried about some stupid shades. A red-eyed Naomi stares pathetically into a mirror above the private dining room's fireplace, trying to determine what tint the whites of her eyes have turned. They couldn't even make it through the salad, to the chicken. She's that horrible. Naomi rubs her eyes voraciously. Well, they're more red now.

The fire crackles, the shadows of her legs covering the carpet. She spotted Max through the glass door a moment ago. Wisps of cold air came out of his mouth but he didn't talk. At least he was still there. Miriam and Melanie left, moreso because Micah was their ride she liked to think. The dinner was a disaster. It's what Max thought it would be and more. How many wrong things did she say? How many bridges did she burn? She stares out the window. Max is gone. He'll be gone forever when he realizes his father was right. She doesn't belong with him and his life is in shambles because of her. The Delta ceremony will just hammer that in, so she won't go to that. Max should have his day in the sun without her.

Naomi's gaze leaves the fire when she hears a knob turn. Max. Maybe he'll say everything's alright. Maybe he talked with his family and they've already forgiven her. The door parts.

"Mr. Miller," says Naomi, barely choking out his name.

Micah walks slowly to the center of the carpet, the gold in his bowtie shimmering under the chandeliers, the black illuminated by the firelight.

"That was far more complicated than it needed to be," says Micah.

"I agree," says Naomi weakly.

"So why don't you make it easier on yourself and break up with my son," continues Micah.

"What?" whispers Naomi.

"He left, Naomi," says Micah. "He's not returning. Was anything I said tonight not true? Can you deny it?"

"Max and I...always work things out," breathes Naomi. "Mr. Miller, give me another chance to show you I'm good enough."

"I can wait for a comet, and it'd be a shorter wait," sighs Micah.

"I...I really like who I am," sobs Naomi.

"Then, somebody else will too," affirms Micah.

Naomi opens her mouth to reply, Micah holding his hand up in protest. He slowly walks to a chair, removing the bouquet and setting it in her grasp.

"Date a footballer or a track and field star, or a future Homecoming king," says Micah. "You don't belong here. You never have. You're as foreign as these flowers."

"But...they survive," says Naomi, blinking repeatedly at the bouquet.

"Not for long," says Micah.

He rights his bowtie, strolls out with purpose. His purpose was to tear them apart, but not before getting his opinions out. Naomi wipes her tears, parts the glass door, stumbles onto the deck. Another pair of watery eyes meets hers.

"Naomi," says Max, rising as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Naomi yelps in response, running as fast as her heels can carry her. She can't break his heart when hers is broken. Why did she come? There was so many signs, some from Max, warning her to stay away. She'll stay away from him, for the rest of the night.

"Where are you going?" yells Max after her.

She stops midway on the sidewalk, seeing a taxi speeding towards her. That taxi seems like a miracle right about now. She beckons the taxi to her.

"Wait!" yells Max. "We have to talk!"

"I can't!" yells Naomi. "I can't do this!"

He's nearly there, but she manages to get inside the taxi and slam the door with Max a few yards away.

"This doesn't change anything!" exclaims Max, his voice carrying through the window. "Naomi!"

"Drive," commands Naomi, the driver pulling off without hesitation.

The taxi crawls ahead. Naomi spies Max running, running in the side view mirror, his form growing smaller and smaller. He's so distant. Perhaps that's how it should be, Max only a far away dot with glasses.

"I don't want to make the poor boy sprint!" says the cabbie.

"Just...don't stop," sobs Naomi. "Don't stop."


	5. All I Need

**V. All I Need**

_Hey, hey, hey_  
><em>Hey, hey, hey<em>  
><em>I'm a dreamer, I'm a gypsy<em>  
><em>I'm a river passing by<em>  
><em>Got to run to keep up with me<em>  
><em>I'm the sailor in the sky<em>  
><em>And if I keep my heart open<em>  
><em>If I wear it on my sleeve<em>  
><em>No matter what life's throwing<em>  
><em>Nothing's ever gonna get to me<em>  
><em>Hey, hey, hey...<em>

_All I need is what I've got_  
><em>My soul is free and I've got more than enough<em>  
><em>I believe in love and I'll never stop<em>  
><em>That's why all I need is what I've got...<em>

_Let it roll, roll, roll, right off my back_  
><em>Let it flow, flow, flow, that's where I'm at<em>  
><em>Let it roll, roll, roll, right off my back<em>  
><em>Let it flow, flow, flow, that's where I'm at...<em>

_I'm working up to something_  
><em>So don't drag me down with you<em>  
><em>We're all looking for that one thing<em>  
><em>It's gonna pull us through<em>  
><em>And I don't keep my heart wide open<em>  
><em>Even if it starts to bleed<em>  
><em>And all the daggers that you're throwing<em>

_It's gonna bounce right off of me_  
><em>Hey, hey, hey...<em>  
><em>Because when I arrive<em>  
><em>I,I'll bring the fire<em>  
><em>Make you come alive,<em>  
><em>I can take you higher<em>  
><em>What this is? Forgot? I must now remind you<em>  
><em>Let it rock, let it rock, let it rock<em>

_(Natasha)_  
><em>Let it roll, roll, roll, right off my back<em>  
><em>(Kevin)<em>  
><em>Let it rock, let it rock, let it rock<em>  
><em>(Natasha)<em>  
><em>Let it roll, roll, roll, right off my back<em>  
><em>(Kevin)<em>  
><em>Let it rock, let it rock, let it rock<em>

_Oh yeah I release, and I set free_  
><em>Giving fear inside my steer<em>  
><em>And I give in, and I let out<em>  
><em>Overthrowing any doubt<em>  
><em>This is my sanctuary yeah...<em>

_All I need is what I've got_  
><em>My soul is free and I've got more than enough<em>  
><em>I believe in love and I'll never stop<em>  
><em>That's why all I need is what I've got<em>

**Try and All I Need is the property of Natasha Bedingfield.**

**Sweeter is the property of Gavin DeGraw.**

The cab crawls through the brightly lit thoroughfare, then the busy crosswalks in back to back traffic. It seems like every nearby vehicle is crowded into this particular part of Los Angeles, about two blocks from where she last saw Max. Saturday night partygoers fill the city blocks. Tourists go slow on the sidewalks so they can take in the sights. Normally, Naomi has no trouble being visible. But she can't bring herself to glance out into a sea of people or have them view her. Her mascara has trailed down her cheek. Her lips are chapped and begging for a touch-up. She didn't even want to think about how her hair looked. Her appearance is the opposite of when and how she'd like to be seen, much the same feeling during the dinner that threw her for a loop. All that prep for nothing special.

She's nothing special, according to Micah Miller, who wouldn't matter if he weren't the father of the guy she loved. Naomi has taken knocks before. Though she cared deeply for her sister, Jen managed a dig or two whenever she visited. Lord knows Guru Sona thought she was an airhead with a credit card. But the fact that Max's dad believed she was expendable was enough to almost completely shatter her. Naomi didn't expect him to approve of her outright, given the drama that accompanied their relationship in the past, but she did expect a second chance. A fuller chance.

Instead, she was sent away without a full stomach or a relieved heart. Was Mr. Miller telling the truth? Did Max have a better future without her or would he eventually want a different woman? She hasn't forgotten that Max had another type before her. He turned her down twice. Only she thought his tastes had changed. Hers definitely has, and she's certain she's done with the "Liams" and "Ethans" of the world. Max taught her that relationships should be mutual, built on trust and sensitivity. Maybe that's all he was supposed to do...to teach her that and leave. Naomi sniffles into a silk hankerchief then moans when she looks down at the wrinkles.

"You still haven't given me a destination," says the cabbie.

He's a reasonably nice-looking cabbie, though he's wearing a brown shirt that doesn't do any wonders for him.

"Where do you go when your heart gets stomped on more than Naomi Campbell stomps down a runway?" sighs Naomi.

"Your name's Naomi, too, huh?" says the cabbie. "I heard that boy calling you."

"Well, he won't call me anymore," sobs Naomi, blowing into her hankerchief. "Ewww. My nose is clogged."

"He sounded like he had something to tell you, miss," says the cabbie. "I'm no Dr. Phil, but I think you should hash it out before you go splitsville. Don't you have a few questions for him?"

"That's what started the meltdown...his dad's questions," explains Naomi.

"Alright, alright," says the cabbie, turning left. "I won't play therapist anymore. I'll just take you wherever you want to go."

"There is this one place," says Naomi. "I mean, I can't go home. Silver, Ivy, and Annie will grill me if I walk in there. At least if I drop by the beach, I'll be alone."

"Why is one of your friends named after a color?" asks the cabbie.

"Just drive, please," replies Naomi.

The taxi reaches the beach in under five minutes, with Naomi tipping the driver and walking towards the ocean in under two. To think, she and Max were just here, hopeful about the future, celebrating their past. Then, like a wave over a sandcastle, it all came crashing to the ground. She didn't even want to check if their initials were still carved in the sand. Besides, it might be impossible to find and read them without the aid of the Offshore's outside lights.

But the lights are on, notices Naomi. That's strange. She knew the hours pretty well. Ask her to identify the elements on the periodic table and she'd blank, but ask her the hours of various L.A. hotspots and she's golden. In any case, perhaps she can score a beer off Liam and get a ride home afterwards.

Naomi walks to the bar and knocks on the door. She almost turns the other way when she's invited in by Liam's sole employee.

"Sorry," says Naomi, Adrianna letting the door close behind her. "I thought Liam would be up."

"Liam hurt his foot so he can't be up at the bar," shares Adrianna.

"Oh, too bad," says Naomi. "Um, guess I'll go."

Adrianna tugs on her dress, scanning Naomi's face to read her expression.

"You've been crying," says Adrianna.

"No...no, I haven't," insists Naomi. "It's...it's...I was testing L'Oreal's new line and it made me teary."

"Naomi, I've seen you weep over your parents' divorce, Ethan cheating on you, and David Beckham not answering your fan mail," says Adrianna, evaluating her. "Tonight is right up there with those three. This...was a big cry."

Crossing her arms, Naomi shrugs. So what? It's not like Adrianna has friends to tell.

"Even if it was, I wouldn't confide in you," says Naomi as she brushes past Adrianna. "The way you treated Silver was despicable."

"That's what I think about myself...every day," says Adrianna softly.

Naomi lowers her arms. Is she pulling a fast one or is she really sincere? It has been awhile since the pill-switching catastrophe.

"Sometimes I compare myself to all the villains," continues Adrianna. "Maleficent, Scar, that mean Mulan guy, any bad kids that don't listen to Mary Poppins. And I am the worst. Okay, maybe I'm better than Jafar but not by much."

"Can you be a bad girl and get me a beer?" broaches Naomi.

"Sure!" says Adrianna chirpily.

Adrianna retrieves a brown bottle, uncaps it, and smiles.

"Remember when we skipped gym class like everyday?" says Adrianna.

"Natch," replies Naomi. "We should've gotten medals for that, and being fashionably truant when we did show."

Those were the days. The two of them had their own schedule, their own commitments. They usually involved shopping or boy-scouting...the kind of scouting without the badges. Of course all of that "scouting" was before...

Adrianna hands Naomi the bottle. Naomi takes a sip.

"This is root beer," says Naomi, clicking her tongue.

"That's a beer, though," says Adrianna. "The other kind's in the lock-up, and Liam's afraid I'll get lost in there without him so he won't give me a key yet."

"Fine," groans Naomi. "Do you have anything that'll drag me out of a deep depression?"

"Ice cream?" offers Adrianna.

"Gimme," says Naomi. "A lot."

Adrianna runs to fetch the ice cream. Naomi wonders about that girl sometimes. But is she going to have to worry about other girls soon? It seems as if she's the first girlfriend the Millers couldn't stand. She seriously doubts they've chased off other females Max dated. Naomi's not sure whether to feel distinct or like dirt.

Adrianna returns to present her with a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream, a few oddly-shaped sprinkles on the top.

"We didn't have toppings so I put some Nerds on there," says Adrianna.

"Thanks," says Naomi, hesitantly. "I like Nerds."

"Yeah," says Adrianna. "What's life without some Nerds?"

"Sucky," replies Naomi.

"These Nerds are too little to date," speaks up Adrianna after Naomi eats a couple bites. "Unlike brunettes with glasses."

"Navid doesn't wear glasses," says Naomi, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"You know who I'm talking about," says Adrianna.

Adrianna's about as subtle as a sledgehammer. Actually, she's always been this way, and her former bestie managed to hit it right on the nail nine times out of ten. Naomi's not going confessional on her but she'll release choice tiny tidbits to get the girl off her case.

"His parents detest me," shares Naomi.

"At least you were never knocked up," consoles Adrianna. "When Navid said he wanted to help me with my baby, I half expected them to burn me at the stake. And that's illegal in California...maybe."

"They want someone better for Max," says Naomi. "With a 4.0, who wears oxfords and cardigans."

"Stuff their cardigans!" insists Adrianna. "You and Max are ultra cute. When I was at prom, you know the one I shouldn't have been at since I wasn't a student, he looked proud of you and proud to be _with_ you. "

"That was before graduation, before the history paper snafu," reminds Naomi.

"Max didn't ask you to do that," says Adrianna. "If they blame you for that, then they're like Jafar squared."

Naomi can't help but grin as she lifts her spoon.

"His parents aren't with you everyday," says Adrianna. "I mean, that would be creepy...and crowded. But the point is that Max is with you more and he's impressed."

As much as Adrianna has lied in the past few months, she's speaking the truth now. They haven't spent more than two hours with her and Max wouldn't have invited her in the first place if he didn't value her as a person. She has to make it up to him for not trusting that, trusting him.

"Thanks, Ade," says Naomi, sliding off the stool. "What do I owe you?"

"Maybe we can shop together in the future?" says Adrianna, then biting her lip.

"Deal," promises Naomi.

"Hey!" says a third voice. "This isn't Baskin Robbins."

Liam stumbles into the bar from the side door, agitated, limping on one foot and changing his mind mid-stride to the other. Naomi raises her eyebrows. Fake injury?

"Relax, el capitan," says Naomi. "I had a single bowl of cheap ice cream."

"I wasn't the captain," says Liam. "I was on a fishing boat. Honestly, Naomi, pay attention."

"Liam, you shouldn't be moving around," says Adrianna. "Go back and I'll make you a sundae."

"With chocolate sauce?" says Liam.

"With chocolate sauce," replies Adrianna. "Scoot scoot."

"Pretty soon they'll all want free ice cream," grumbles Liam, disappearing into the back room.

The girls laugh, Adrianna waving at Naomi as she exits. Naomi scrolls through her phone for Max's number. Hmmm, well, he hasn't called her. He may be waiting so they can talk face to face...or he doesn't care. Naomi rubs her forehead and dials the first number that happens to be on her screen. The phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Annie?" says Naomi. "Can I get a ride home?"

"Yeah," says Annie. "But what happened?"

Naomi lets her shoulders fall. "Everything."

II.

Liam leaves the door parted, its original position ever since they arrived at the Offshore following that destined-to-be-bad date. Only Liam helped the destiny of that date along by fake-injuring his foot. Was it the most moral moment of his life? No. But Dixon's so wrong for her that it's not funny. One, he's a B plus student. Well, both he and Adrianna were C-range students, so he can take his B-having self elsewhere. Two, Dixon uses coasters. Liam noticed that Adrianna used napkins when putting drinks on tables just like him. Point two for him. Third, and most important, Adrianna came to him and not Dixon for a fresh start. So Dixon shouldn't be trying to start anything with her or get fresh with her or breathe fresh air around her...and...and...what am I saying, thinks Liam, flopping onto his bed.

He cares about Annie. He proposed to Annie. Why is he even considering someone else, let alone an employee? This is his first business and wouldn't pursuing Adrianna completely muck it up? Adrianna relies on him for friendship and to be a good boss. But he's done other dumb stuff before that has worked out for the best. Buying the bar was chief among them. Maybe it is destiny that he bought the Offshore and that Adrianna came along for the ride. What to do? Should he risk a professional relationship if it means a new, exciting romantic relationship? As Ryan Lochte would say, jeah. He obviously can't censor his emotions if he's tailing her on dates.

And which leg to drag? He's completely forgotten which foot was supposed to be in pain. Thankfully, Adrianna hasn't caught wind of that fact. He should've "broken" his nose. He's only got one of them.

"Liam, your sundae's ready, and you get to have it on a Sunday," says Adrianna as she advances to his room.

Rising, Liam slips off his shirt, bunches the shirt, and throws it into his closet. He recalls she has a thang for his abs. Not a thing, but a thang. Adrianna's eyes bug out when she sees him shirtless. Like he thought, a thang.

"Uh...um, you don't want to get cold while you eat your ice cream," stammers Adrianna.

"I'm warm," says Liam. "Aren't you?"

"No, I tend to run cold," says Adrianna. "Whatever that means."

Adrianna reaches to give him the sundae, without looking directly at him. Liam smiles and starts to eat. An icy trail of liquid lines the area above his lips. Adrianna snickers.

"What?" says Liam blankly.

"You have a sauce moustache," explains Adrianna. "You look five right about now."

Liam wipes the sauce off his mouth with a piece of tissue paper. So much for the thang. He shouldn't have asked for the sauce.

"I'm sorry," says Adrianna. "I like working for you, moustache or not."

Sitting on the bed, Adrianna pats his right foot. Is that the foot? Okay, that'll be the foot, decides Liam. Liam scrunches towards her, eliciting a moan or two for effect.

"What if I had a beard?" kids Liam.

"That'd be fine, too," reassures Adrianna. "Liam, why did you come to the pier tonight?"

Liam searches for an answer to smooth her nerves, and his, since they're going about a mile a minute.

"To win you a giraffe?" says Liam, shrugging.

"I feel bad for Dixon," sighs Adrianna. "He was a fun date, but...more of a strange, friendly date. Probably cause he and Navid are so close."

"So you're not going out with him again?" says Liam, beginning to smile.

Adrianna almost catches the unintentional smile, but Liam catches himself before she can. He verbally chalks it up to getting the last of the chocolate sauce.

"No, I'm not ready to date," replies Adrianna finally. "If I was, it'd be with someone who could deal with my past. But there aren't many guys around here who could."

"I...I could," stammers Liam.

"Liam," waves off Adrianna, laughing and shaking her head, then realizing that he's serious, "Oh my gosh, Liam!"

"I could!" insists Liam.

"Dating you was not in the job description," says Adrianna as she stands speedily. "Plus you're still jonesin' for Annie."

"I'm jonesin' for you right now!" says Liam.

"Yeah, right now," says Adrianna. "Liam, you just want a warm body for your hot shirtless self...really hot shirtless self...I mean, wow...but...I won't be an Annie substitute!"

"That's not what I want," says Liam strongly. "I want an Adrianna original!"

"Well, you're not getting a glass of this Ade," proclaims Adrianna. "Keep your hands off my lemons. You're my boss so start acting like it."

"You'd don't believe in interoffice dating?" cries Liam.

"We're not in an office!" cries Adrianna.

"Interbar, then?" says Liam.

"No, I don't," replies Adrianna. "I guess I didn't have to pad my resume since you were interested in patting my butt!"

"Man, can't I just be into you for your personality and the way you dot the i in my name with an asterisk?" asks Liam.

Adrianna's mouth quivers. "You noticed that?"

"Yeah, and that you know eighty percent of the songs we play at the bar, that you have orange fingers when you come back from lunch since you feed the seagulls Cheetos during break, and that you eat alone because you don't think anyone else will eat with you," lists Liam.

"Liam," whispers Adrianna, hanging her head.

"I'm not looking for a body," says Liam. "I'm looking for somebody. Maybe you."

"You won't mean this tomorrow," says Adrianna tearfully. "We can't do this. You're my boss. We're friends. Why are you screwing this up? God, Liam!"

Without another word, Adrianna jumps up from the bed and runs out of the room. Great. He ruined the last good relationship in his life, and as it turns out, she isn't on the same wavelength. Or is she? She could've stayed on the date with Dixon and why flee in tears if there weren't some feelings underneath the anger? He has to know there's nothing before he gives up completely. Adrianna has to know that he's genuinely interested in her and he has to know if she's interested period.

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," says Liam aloud.

It all starts with a single step, and it looks like he won't have to fake it anymore.

III.

Max's legs stretch out across the staircase steps, the headlights of passing cars illuminating his dress pants. He's got identifying the neighborhood vehicles down to a science. The Wachovskis have a mini-van so the car sounds more guttural, harsh, as they shift gears towards their driveway. Ira and Patty Jacobs share a reliable Chevy, and you can hear their five kids from any foyer on the block. Their baby screamed and screamed until he was out of the car seat. That's kind of how Max would describe himself at the present moment, only he's screaming inside, and waiting.

Suddenly, there's a low rumble, headlights peering past the curtained windows of the Miller foyer. Every door unlocks at once, Micah's trademark. Melanie used to rush out until Micah chastised her for her impatience. He's about to see some impatience. The car doors close. Miriam's last, her heels nervously drumming in stride with her husband's shoes. Micah's keys jangle. The door opens. Miriam flips on the light. Max remains still.

"What did you say to her?" says Max clearly.

Micah unbuttons his coat, hangs a scarf on the hatstand. He starts to help Miriam out of her coat.

"What did you say to her?" repeats Max strongly.

"To whom are you referring?" asks Micah.

"Oh, Micah," breathes Miriam quietly. "It's too late for this."

"To my girlfriend!" cries Max, standing.

"What makes you think I said anything?" says Micah.

"Don't," says Max. "You were alone with her!"

"I merely told her the truth," says Micah. "Deep down, she knew it, and she didn't have any cause to argue with me. The most mature thing she's done is walk away tonight."

Max leaps off the stairs before Micah's finished, Miriam reaching to restrain him as Max stands inches from his father.

"I can't believe I cared about your approval!" exclaims Max.

"You didn't, which is how she got into this mess," says Micah sternly. "Is it the first time we've told you to leave the girl alone? She's finally done right by you, my boy. You'll eventually come to see that."

No. Naomi wouldn't believe that this was right, would she? He's the one that tried to bail on the dinner, not her. She was positive about the outcome, and continually positive about their relationship. She wouldn't walk off on her own accord. His father is lying through his teeth.

"Maybe you'll date a girl we can respect now," says Micah. "A girl that won't leave you out on a limb and complicate your life."

"Respect?" says Max. "Why would I date a girl you'd respect when I don't respect you?"

Micah frowns, so firmly that his cheeks shrink towards his neck. Max refuses to blink, to move.

"Max!" cries Miriam.

"Take that back," whispers Melanie, darting her eyes from her brother to her father.

"I have _never _steered you wrong!" cries Micah. "I have paid for your belongings, your education, your...how dare you disrespect me in my home! That little minx has made you go mad!"

"You're making me mad, and this isn't my home anymore!" shouts Max.

He runs up the stairs, hearing his father mumble furiously behind him, and two pairs of feet follow him. Max reaches for his phone, which he turned off while driving, when he was focusing, focusing on getting here and keeping his courage until his father arrived. He flips open a suitcase and starts to put in what he'll need. Shirts, pants, textbooks, toiletries. Maybe he wouldn't need the toiletries. A fresh toothbrush could mean a new start to a new life, without his father.

"Nobody's slept on this argument," says Miriam, halting Max so he can't reach the bathroom. "Let's talk in the morning."

"In the morning, I'll still be upset," says Max.

"You can't go," says Melanie, starting to cry. "You just came home from break...we barely get to see you..."

Her protests dissolve into a sob. Max drops his deoderant in order to hug her but doesn't get the chance.

"Look at you making your sister upset," says the last voice he feels like hearing from the hallway.

"Your expertise is making women cry, not mine," throws back Max, returning to his suitcase.

Melanie crouches to the bed, her mother wrapping her arms around her.

"Stop this nonsense and go to bed," insists Micah. "No girl is worth losing your family over. And if she doesn't send you back, she's definitely not worth it."

"Dad, you can't control me or Naomi or anyone else," says Max, locking his suitcase. "And as far as I'm concerned, I don't have a father."

Max exits the door, storming down the steps. He hates hearing his sister cry and his mother comforting her, but he relishes the silence he hears from his father. Unfortunately, it fails to last. He spies his father in the door as he loads the suitcase into his car.

"Maxwell Miller, you come here and apologize!" says Micah. "You're my son whether you like it or not."

"I don't like it," says Max, before climbing into his car. "And I won't be your son."

Slamming the car shut, Max pulls out, tires squealing, tears welling. He shuts his eyes briefly when he sees his father in the rear view mirror so that he can pretend he's not there, or that he ever was there, and so that he can pretend that he didn't see tears on his father's face too.

IV.

"Ooooh, my stomach," moans Adrianna.

Glancing at the gurgling part of her body, covered smartly by her glittery apron, Adrianna rolls her eyes. She couldn't eat her beloved oatmeal today. Her mother kept asking her if she had indigestion. She even suggested Adrianna stay in and not go to work. Work. Work that's become so much more than work. That dunderhead Liam.

"Better not be the butterflies," whispers Adrianna to her stomach.

What if they were butterflies? Alright, she's very fond of the hours she's spent around Liam, and she put her purple giraffe at th top of her stuffed animal heap. But that didn't mean she thought dating him was a good idea. He was almost engaged two months ago. That doesn't sound like boyfriend material. Plus, throughout her date with Dixon, she kept having Navid flashbacks. As charming as Dixon is, he's not Navid. Liam isn't Navid either. Should she have gotten the message that Navid was over her? Yes, but a heart doesn't hear as well as an ear. He can say he's into Silver until the cows come home, but he's still lodged in that annoying organ that won't listen.

She hopes Liam listened to her. Great guy, a better boss and friend than she probably deserved, but they can't go there. The job is the single highlight of her life, and she can't lose a friend due to some temporary butterflies. So I'm admitting they're butterflies, moans Adrianna inwardly. Fantastic.

Luckily, it's Monday evening, and the bar's busy. She's arriving a tad late to avoid being alone with Liam. It's just as well seeing as Liam would be interviewing possible waiters and waitresses in about ten minutes. Having the extra help would really help her out, now (apparently) in more ways than one. Maybe they'll distract Liam from whatever crazy notions he's got running around in his head.

Liam leans over the bar, almost as if he's been waiting for her. There's a single family at the rear table, going through her patented root beer floats.

"Hi," greets Adrianna, without eye contact.

"Hello," says Liam. "You're late."

"My Garfield alarm was acting up," says Adrianna. "Um, he hates Mondays."

"Well, Brianna's coming in for her interview at seven fifteen," says Liam. "Can you handle the tables?"

"That's my job," says Adrianna with a shrug.

Brianna? That's weird. She could've sworn the very first interview was with a guy named Frank. You don't forget a name like Frank.

"Gonna be a slow day, you think?" says Adrianna, joining him at the bar.

"No, I plan on moving fast," says Liam, staring ahead at the entrance.

"You can't move fast," says Adrianna pointedly. "Your foot."

"That's not what I meant," says Liam.

A busty blonde in a black miniskirt enters and waves at Liam. Liam grins, returning her wave. She approaches Liam and Adrianna. Her boobs bounce. So much boob, thinks Adrianna, paralyzed.

"Hiiiiii Liam!" greets the blonde. "Brianna Bushwick, at your service. My customers are always satisfied."

She winks at Liam, who flushes red. Adrianna's mouth drops.

"Why don't we go to that table in the back?" offers Liam, walking confidently to Brianna and showing her to the table.

Adrianna hits the top of the bar with her palm. His foot's fine...the faker! Plus, he's totally flirting with that flirt. Her eyes rest on the table occupied by Liam and Brianna, the music on the sound speaker filling the room.

_You_  
><em>Went to school and found out you're dumb<em>  
><em>Maybe you just had too much fun<em>  
><em>Fell in love and think it's the one<em>

_You're like an angel_  
><em>Got me feeling like a devil<em>  
><em>And I wanna give you something if<em>  
><em>You promise that you won't tell<em>

"So, do you have any experience?" asks Liam loudly.

"Oh, Liam," says Brianna, then giggling. "You're so bad. You know, I wasn't going to apply until I saw you. Is that...unprofessional?"

"Depends," says Liam, putting a hand on her knee. "Is this?"

Gripping the bar countertop hard, Adrianna can feel the wood touch her nailbeds. That little punk. This isn't a legit interview. He's putting on a show...for her.

"Do you have a problem with co-workers dating?" asks Liam, rubbing Brianna's knee. "Cause some of my staff is uptight about that."

"As long as we get to spend time together after hours, I'm good," says Brianna, massaging his chest.

"I'm a big believer in overtime," says Liam.

_I just wanna take_  
><em>Someone else's holiday<em>  
><em>Sometimes the grass is greener<em>  
><em>And someone else's sugar<em>  
><em>Someone else's sugar<em>  
><em>Sweeter<em>

He grins widely and moves the hand on Brianna's knee higher. That's it. Now he's not only making himself look bad, but the entire establishment. Adrianna walks up to him and yanks him all the way to the supply closet.

"Excuse us," says Adrianna over her shoulder.

"Hey, we're in the middle of an interview!" cries Brianna after them.

Liam closes the door without the grin fading. Adrianna paces in front of him.

"And I thought I wasn't subtle!" cries Adrianna. "Brianna...which isn't that far off from Adrianna. You were clearly waiting for her. Your leg magically healed! You...you..."

He grins, the edges of his lips rising.

"Stop your smirking, smirker!" exclaims Adrianna.

"Did you like my questions?" asks Liam.

"No, I didn't!" replies Adrianna. "I'm assuming you used this jealousy method on Annie and it worked."

"Yep," says Liam, continuing to smirk.

"Well, we're two different people," reminds Adrianna. "So it's not going to work."

"Oh, it'll work," says Liam, then gesturing to himself. "Cause you kinda want this."

"You are the cockiest, most frustrating, unapologetic person in the entire world!" cries Adrianna.

"Date me," says Liam.

"No!" cries Adrianna. "I'm trying to insult you so you won't be into me anymore. Go with it."

"The more challenging it is, the more I'm intrigued," admits Liam. "Come on. One date? You wouldn't keep getting mad if there wasn't something here."

_I'm a recommend_  
><em>You take that body to the other end<em>  
><em>I really like you but I can't be friends<em>  
><em>Not with these hands of mine<em>

Adrianna balls her fists, banging him lightly on the chest. Sure enough, that simply causes him to resume smirking. What a jerk! A jerk who managed to make her jealous. Well, it's not like she hasn't manipulated people a time or two, or more like twenty. Adrianna sighs into his chest, then grabs his shirt to bring her mouth closer to hers. She searches for his lips, find them, their cheeks contorting, her throat burning, her hands gripping his shoulders. Then her back meets the wall and it starts again. They only part mouths once a third voice, barely above a whisper, interjects.

"Did I get the job?"

They both turn to Brianna, standing awkwardly in the closet doorway.

"Guess not," says Brianna, throwing up her arms and leaving.

"Uhhh, I've gotta take orders," says Adrianna as she goes to the door, then pausing. "Um, wipe my lipstick off."

"Uh-huh," says Liam, watching her walk out with a final smirk.

V.

"_Someone else's sugar is sweeter_," sings Annie with the radio, swerving towards the mansion.

"Please...don't...sing," says Naomi, rubbing her temples. "Why are you so chipper?"

Annie does another quick swerve instead of answering her housemate. She would call her peppiest roommate. That said, Annie was amazingly sympathetic and kind to pick her up at this hour. She didn't badger Naomi for info and Naomi gave her the Cliffnotes version of the great Clark-Miller feud. Annie, of course, sided with Naomi but she also appeared to be distracted. What's more interesting than a dinner gone drastically wrong? Naomi doesn't have the energy to consider it.

"I have just the thing to cheer you up," says Annie, unlocking Naomi's car door.

She takes Naomi's arms from behind and leads her into the house. Well, the house looks the same...until she hears a series of grunts and small feet crossing the floor. What on earth? A rather large, hairy pig comes trotting into the room. He's almost as pink as her dress.

"What is this?" cries Naomi. "Green Acres?"

"This is Faulkner," explains Annie. "He's already bonded with Silver, Ivy, and Raj's new guinea pig."

"Guinea pig?" blanks Naomi.

"Yeah, he was mad we got a pig without his consent, so Ivy bought him a guinea pig," explains Annie.

"This is ridiculous!" says Naomi. "This isn't SmartPet."

"Petsmart, and you agreed to the pig," says Annie. "Kinda. Plus..."

Annie pushes Naomi to the kitchen. They peep into the room, where a blonde male in plaid and wearing cowboy boots, is polishing off a piece of jerky.

"Austin drove all the way from campus," says Annie, reddening slightly. "And the price wasn't too high. Isn't Austin cute?"

"He looks like a heel," says Naomi dismissively.

"I like heels," says Annie, smiling brightly.

"Have at him," encourages Naomi.

"Austin? We're back!" calls Annie.

"Howdy, ladies!" greets Austin. "Faulkner's right at home, but I bet showing him your pretty white Kansas pearlies had something to do with that, Ms. Wilson."

"Awww," says Annie, wriggling her nose.

Faulkner trots into the kitchen and starts sniffing the area under Annie's belt. Raj enters, grimacing.

"That hog's been sniffing people's private parts all night," says Raj. "That pig's a pervert."

"He's just saying hello, I reckon," says Austin.

"Reckon," says Raj, shaking his head. "Are we out of carrots? Tony Hawk's hungry."

The doorbell rings, thankfully interrupting feeding time and inappropriate sniffing.

"Thank goodness!" cries Naomi. "I get to exit this episode of Hee-Haw."

She certainly doesn't relish the thought of company, but anything's better than being around that walking cowboy stereotype and Annie's crotch-loving pig. Naomi stamps to the front door, throws it open to their other late night visitor.

"Max?" cries Naomi.

Armed with a suitcase, Max is in the same suit, now disheveled, that he wore at dinner. His features are fallen, his skin pale. This must be her doing. If she talked to him instead of jetting off, he wouldn't be in this state. Her conscience told her to go over his house but common sense told her that his father might be there too.

"Can I crash?" says Max after a deep breath.

"Yeah," says Naomi, leading him inside. "Always."

Max stares around the mansion haphazardly. He's out of it, more than on the beach, but appears more tired. Faulkner breaks into the calm, instantly going to sniff Max's thighs.

"Shoo," orders Naomi, pushing his nose away.

Faulkner squeals and licks Naomi's knee. Then, bored, he prances away.

"My apologies," says Naomi. "This place is becoming a petting zoo."

Max chuckles softly, the only indication that he's not totally off in outer space, which for Max you'd think would be a pleasant trip.

"Actually, apologies for tonight in general," says Naomi, standing in front of him. "Max, I was so upset, and I had so many thoughts go through my brain at once..."

"You don't have to explain," says Max. "Can we go upstairs and talk?"

"Let's go," says Naomi, holding his hand. "The Clark suite awaits."

They reach her bedroom, still overflowing with possible outfits and make-up bottles. She sweeps them off her spread. It's not like either of them needs constant reminders of tonight. Naomi wrests off her pumps and throws off the sheets. Max steps out of his dress shoes, not showing his face.

"He said you weren't good for me, didn't he?" says Max to her bedroom wall.

Naomi chokes back a few tears. The words hover in the air, like Micah Miller's speech is repeating itself.

"Yes," replies Naomi. "In several ways."

"I hate him," says Max, his fixed stare remaining on the wall while he drops to the bed.

"No, you don't," says Naomi as she snuggles next to him.

"I have to hate him," groans Max. "It's the only feeling that makes sense to me right now."

Naomi touches his neck, leading him to stare at her. She can detect many things in his eyes, with hate barely registering in them. Things must've gone awful after she ran, more terrible than she'd thought. If she wasn't so exhausted, she could offer him more than comfort.

"Let's be together tonight," whispers Naomi. "Let's not worry about what everyone else thinks."

"Can we do that?" says Max, brushing her bare shoulder with his lips.

"We can try," says Naomi.

She stands, closes her bedroom door, and flips on her sound system. Simple, soft music plays as she slips the straps of her dress to her elbows. The dress falls in one motion. Max sighs, takes in Naomi's black negligee, a secret she was saving if the dinner had gone differently and he ended up here. Well, he's here, under different circumstances. That's enough. He appraises her with a pained grin.

_Don't throw it away just because it's broken _  
><em>'Cause anything can mend <em>  
><em>Don't call it a day just because the road's blocked <em>  
><em>Doesn't mean we're at the end <em>  
><em>If it's something you love, you don't leave it <em>  
><em>If it's something you care for, you keep it <em>

"Max, what's wrong?" says Naomi.

"Nothing," says Max quickly. "I'm...I'm tired."

Naomi kneels on the bedspread, gently parting the folds of Max's suit jacket. He reluctantly removes his glasses as he looks at the floor. Max leans in to kiss her as she doffs his jacket. Naomi stops the jacket from going past his elbows.

"Tell me," whispers Naomi. "Whatever it is."

Max's mouth shakes, tears running to and past his lips. Naomi holds his head to her chest.

_It's never too far, it's never too late _  
><em>To tell someone "you're the only one" <em>  
><em>And even if it's hard, just never give by <em>  
><em>If you love someone, then you try try try try<em>

"I...I can't please everyone anymore," chokes out Max. "I'm...I'm just realizing that."

She hugs him tighter, wondering if it's the only hug he's gotten since they left each other, wondering if she'll have to dole out more as the days go by. That's when she realizes that she's part of what's tiring him out. He's been running around trying to please his parents...and her too.

"You can rest here," says Naomi softly.

"Naomi," says Max softly. "We have to talk. We have to..."

"No," interrupts Naomi, letting his head meet the sheets. "Rest, Max. Rest."


	6. The Way You Love Me

**VI. The Way You Love Me**

_I'd wish you could see the way you kiss_  
><em>Ooh, I love watching you<em>  
><em>Baby<em>  
><em>When you're driving me crazy<em>

_Ooh, I love the way you_  
><em>Love the way you love me<em>  
><em>There's nowhere else I'd rather be<em>  
><em>Ooh, to feel the way I feel with your arms around me<em>  
><em>I only wish that you could see the way you love me<em>  
><em>The way you love<em>

_It's not right_  
><em>It's not fair<em>  
><em>What you're missing over there<em>  
><em>Someday I'll find a way to show you<em>  
><em>Just how lucky I am to know you<em>

_Ooh, I love the way you_  
><em>Love the way you love me<br>There's nowhere else I'd rather be  
>Ooh, to feel the way I feel with your arms around me<br>I only wish that you could see the way you love me  
>The way you love me<em>

_You're the million reasons why_  
><em>There's love reflecting in my eyes<em>

_Ooh, I love the way you_  
><em>Love the way you love me<em>  
><em>There's nowhere else I'd rather be<em>  
><em>Ooh, to feel the way I feel with your arms around me<em>  
><em>I only wish that you could see the way you love me<em>  
><em>The way you love me<em>  
><em>The way you love me<em>

_Ooh, the way you love me_  
><em>The way you love me<em>

**The Way You Love Me is the property of Faith Hill. **

**Stuck is the property of Stacie Orrico.**

Right or left, left or right. There has to be a right right or a right left or some position that makes her look as if she's slept soundly, instead of gazing at the ceiling like it was going to cave in and ruin her Narciso Rodriguez-scented sheets. Naomi finally lays her head down, thrusts an arm towards the headboard, and crosses her legs at an uncomplicated angle as Max stirs in the space beside her. She's surprised he doesn't stir more when her alarm starts to play a bouncy song as soon as the time shifts to nine o' clock.

_So take me back to Constantinople_  
><em>No, you can't go back to Constantinople<em>  
><em>Been a long time gone, Constantinople<em>  
><em>Why did Constantinople get the works?<em>

Sending a pillow flying at the off switch, Naomi kills the opportunity for They Might Be Giants to further explain geography.

"Stupid Biff and Buffy's Sunshine Hour radio show," mutters Naomi, though Naomi couldn't deny a soft spot for their TMZ-worthy Hollywood gossip.

"_That's nobody's business but the Turks," _mumbles Max while rolling over and going right back to sleep.

Well, if that didn't wake him up, nothing else would. Naomi climbs out of bed to throw a pearl-colored robe around her body. This is definitely one of those days when she appreciated the skills of her live-in chef. Francois cooked the best food Naomi's ever had no matter the time or dish. Even Annie and Silver, the more independent-minded ladies of their crew, were suckers for his first-class oatmeal. Raj and Ivy usually went out due to his specialized diet but the rest of them took full advantage of his services until two o'clock. Luckily for Max, he was working this morning.

Naomi starts towards the kitchen, pauses when she hears a round of squeals. That pig. She walks into the dining room. Faulkner has his snout in scrambled eggs, grits, and various mashed vegetables. Naomi is close to gagging.

"Hey," says Annie, then taking a sip of coffee.

"Please tell me that a barn animal is not eating at the dining table!" cries Naomi.

"I...can't," admits Annie. "Where else is he going to eat?"

"I don't know!" says Naomi. "Put him...put him in the breakfast nook!"

"We have a breakfast nook?" says Silver, peeling an orange.

"We have a breakfast nook," confirms Naomi. "And we have to write some rules or he'll have free reign of the house."

Austin, shirtless, enters with a cowboy hat atop his head. Why isn't he gone?

"Did you sleep here?" asks Naomi.

"On the couch," answers Austin. "Midwestern hospitality after I lost the keys to my apartment."

Annie grins and hunches her shoulders. Naomi would rather have the pig crash honestly.

"Animals should have free reign everywhere," says Austin. "That's what's natural to them."

"Like it's natural for you to be shirtless, apparently," says Silver, smiling behind her orange.

"Okay, I'm not sure what they do in Kansas, Annie, but here, he's not to bother any of my stuff, my food, my staff, or my furniture," says Naomi. "This mansion will not literally be a pigsty."

Faulkner belches and sends a celery stick flying to Naomi's nose.

"Ugh!" cries Naomi.

"He doesn't like boundaries," notes Austin.

"I guess...that explains this," says Annie, lifting a mangled strip of white clothing.

Wait a minute. No, it can't be, because it just cannot be. Naomi's jaw nearly hits the ground.

"That was Max's favorite bra!" exclaims Naomi. "Did Wilbur's bad seed cousin come into my room last night?"

Annie, Austin, and Silver remain silent. Faulkner nods, whether he understands the question or not. This boar is a total bane, for sure. Naomi saunters right to Faulkner.

"You know, when I saw _Charlotte's Web_, I felt bad for your peeps," says Naomi, mouth next to his snout. "But that's no longer the case, bucko. So shape up or ship out."

With the speed of lightning, Faulkner grabs the belt of Naomi's robe and pulls it open. Annie instinctively covers Austin's eyes. Silver begins to chuckle.

"Horny nuisance of a hog!" remarks Naomi, fixing her robe. "Francois!"

The kitchen smells appealing despite Naomi's appetite being low. Wearing a white chef's hat, Francois dices carrots. Fresh fruit is stacked in large white bowls. A stack of pancakes piled high sits next to the sink. The reliable "grab and go" plates were located in the little-used breakfast nook.

"I have a guest," explains Naomi. "We'll be eating in my bedroom."

"Owl Boy?" asks Francois.

"Don't call him owl boy," says Naomi, grinning a bit. "I mean, that's not a terrible nickname..."

"Yes, Ms. Clark," interjects Francois. "I just thought the owl story was very sweet. But I'll make an omelet for Owl Boy...I mean, your guest."

"Max," provides Naomi.

"Mr. Max," corrects Francois. "Oh, and you have a message."

Handing Naomi a small slip of white paper, Francois returns to mixing ingredients in his scrambled eggs. Naomi reads the name, bringing it closer and closer until she can't deny that the name is undoubtedly clear.

"Are you sure this isn't for Max?" asks Naomi.

"No, they asked for you," replies Francois over his shoulder.

Strange. What should she make of this? What kind of conversation could they have if left alone together? Because the dialogue was so sparkling before, kids Naomi inwardly. Maybe she should run this by Max. Or it might squash his appetite, and then neither of them would have the most important meal of the day. Faulkner would probably eat both of their breakfasts anyway.

"I want Orson of _Garfield and Friends _gone by the time I get back!" announces Naomi, walking past the breakfast posse.

Faulkner lets out an aggravated oink.

"He ain't going anywhere," mutters Austin.

"_Charlotte's Web _kinda scarred me for life," admits Silver. "I never stepped on a spider again."

Naomi returns to her room to find Max buttoning a flannel shirt over his lithe frame. He appears well-rested, leaning on the bed to put on his socks.

"When did you wake up?" asks Naomi.

"_Istanbullll_!" sings Max playfully.

"Awww, I should've turned my alarm off," groans Naomi. "I was hoping you'd have a nice deep sleep."

"I did," reassures Max. "Only that put a much-needed pep in my step at the end of it. I can't sleep forever, Naomi."

"What if I nestled right next to you?" says Naomi, sitting next to him.

Sighing, Max lies down on the bed, drawing Naomi down with him. Naomi yelps in mock protest. Now they're both looking at the ceiling.

"This could totally be a forever thing," says Max.

"Reminds me of the planetarium," says Naomi. "Before all this junk happened."

"Yeah, that's what my dad coughs out," moans Max. "Junk."

Naomi glances at Max's profile. Worry lines near the edges of his eyes, pursed lips, firm expression. She glances at the slip of paper, quietly tucked between her fingers.

"We could come to a stalemate," says Naomi. "If two parties are willing."

"He's not willing, m' lady," says Max good-naturedly, then sad. "He's arrogant. I'm not going to let him talk to you like that. About us like that."

"Don't they say things look brighter in the morning, though?" offers Naomi.

"Micah Miller doesn't change overnight," replies Max. "He bought this Erector set when I was little. I was so excited to have it but he wouldn't let me play with it because one piece was missing. Never mind childhood joy for the toy itself or making the most of the situation. No, if all the pieces weren't in place, don't put in the effort. To this day, I've never finished an Erector set. Too many bad memories attached."

"I feel bad you didn't get to finish," whispers Naomi.

"Let's not make him let us feel bad anymore," sighs Max. "Let's get up and eat."

They stand, Naomi hiding the paper in a robe pocket. That shot her theory that a phone call might help. Unless...

"I have somewhere to go," says Naomi. "Afterwards, we can have breakfast. Francois is already cooking up a storm."

"How about I cook you breakfast?" suggests Max. "Then I won't be classified as a mooch."

"Max, you're no mooch," argues Naomi.

"Chalk it up to a favor," says Max with a shrug. "Here. Fill this out and I'll get started."

While Max fetches a nearby notebook of hers, Naomi considers her options concerning the torn away sheet Francois gave her. If she does what she's thinking of doing, Max might be hurt, but he also might get more hurt if things stayed the way they were and failed to improve by the time he held that CalTech diploma in his hands.

Breaking out of her thoughts, Naomi reads the words Max wrote in the notebook.

"Max's menu," says Naomi. "Mmmm. I'll take brown eyes for an appetizer, brunette hair on the side, and everything in front of me for the main course."

"Flattered, but how about something edible?" mentions Max.

She finally writes a special that includes pancakes with maple syrup, a small fruit salad, bacon, and a hard-boiled egg. Perhaps if Faulkner saw the bacon, he'd know not to mess with her in the future.

"Wish me luck," says Max. "You'll be back when?"

"Soon," replies Naomi. "You should survive, unless all the appliances come to life ala Beauty in the Beast and you get choked by a blender chord."

"What a way to go," says Max. "Well, at least I'll go down doing something for someone I love."

Me too, adds Naomi inwardly, kissing Max until he leaves and is removed from her sight.

II.

She made the softest mountain imaginable, the top white and peaked, the structure eye-catching, the height impressive considering the materials. Marooned. The only person near her mountain in the storeroom closet. Adrianna felt alone, which she thought she'd gotten used to over the summer. It's not like texts would magically appear on her cell or invites would suddenly appear in her inbox.

But she thought things were different, first with Liam and then with Naomi. They at least didn't run for the door when she said more than three words. Now Liam's sent her running in another direction. He can't possibly think anything can happen. Alright, something did happen thanks to a stupid bubble of jealousy that momentarily floated to her angry brain. Although, really? Brianna wasn't half as interesting as she is...

"Hey, Ade!" calls Liam, swinging the storeroom door open.

Adrianna, startled, sends an accidental fist through her mountain of napkins.

"Yo," greets Adrianna with a salute.

No she did not just salute him. What the? Liam beams. She'd label him a freakin' cad if she knew for sure what cad meant.

"What are you doing in here?" asks Liam.

"Counting napkins," replies Adrianna as she picks up a few from the floor.

"Looks more like you were punching them," says Liam.

"Cause I'm blinkin' mad," proclaims Adrianna. "My pedicure's wearing off, I'm missing _Once Upon A Time_, and Justin and Selena broke up...again."

"But you're not upset you tongued me two hours ago?" teases Liam, crossing his arms.

"Shut your fine face up!" throws back Adrianna.

"And you were worried I'd be all over you," continues Liam smugly. "Turns out it was the other way around. I do believe we have what the experts call 'sexual tension'."

"It was one kiss," says Adrianna, holding a finger in front of his nose. "One mistake."

"Okay, while you try to convince yourself that that's true, I have customers to serve," waves off Liam. "And you have ten minutes left on your break."

Liam goes through the door, leaving Adrianna in a lonely forest of bar supplies. What is this guy's problem? If she went on a single date with Liam, Annie would hate her for infinity. Dixon would be insulted. She'd have to prepare for a hate-from-Silver sequel. Nope. Nobody would like her, not even Navid, and he's the last person she wants to disappoint.

Besides being handsome, what was there to Liam? Well, he was kind, and a bit non-judgemental, and a bit mysterious, and a bit supportive. She's not sure any other boss would welcome her with open arms. Plus he basically let her do whatever around the bar, including misuing his napkins.

The door parts again. Adrianna stares at Liam in the doorway.

"Yo," says Liam with a salute.

"Stop making fun of me and wasting my minutes!" says Adrianna.

"Ha!" laughs Liam, stumbling out.

Adrianna grins, putting both hands over her mouth. She won't flirt or almost flirt. Unlike Brianna, she won't give into Liam's advances and will strive to be professional. And hello, if she doesn't leave this closet, she can't watch Charming and Snow's reunion make out On Demand. Now that's a kiss that should've happened.

Coming into the bar, Adrianna retrieves her notepad, tray, and apron. Liam is pouring beer for two surfers. He's a good distance away which works for her. Adrianna sticks a pencil into her high pony. She learned that move from the movies and she thought it made her head look less pointy as a bonus. Two beach-ready couples sit at the first of her tables.

"Good evening!" greets Adrianna. "My name is..."

"Adrianna!" yells a familiar voice, a voice she's entirely not anticipating at this moment or any other.

She nearly drops her notepad.

"Um...hi...hi, Navid," stammers Adrianna.

Navid stands tall in front of her, edging towards the bar where Liam's filling a glass under the tap. Adrianna, confused, goes to block him.

"What's this about you and Liam going out?" exclaims Navid.

"Huh?" blanks Adrianna.

"Dixon told me you went on a date with him last night," says Navid. "For real, Ade? With that guy? Honestly?"

"I hung out with both of them," answers Adrianna, shrugging.

"Player, player," compliments a man at Adrianna's table, tipping his hat towards her.

"I did leave with Liam, Navid," offers Adrianna. "That's it."

"Was it all platonic?" says Navid, narrowing his eyes at Liam.

"What does that mean?" questions Adrianna.

"Hey!" calls Navid, going past her. "Liam!"

Liam stops filling mugs and waves hello. Please don't let this get any worse. Adrianna tosses her notepad onto the table. The two boys' shouting match held the customers' attention more than their menus.

"A party ain't a party without my man Navid Shirazi!" says Liam, going up for a high-five.

"Can the lame sayings and look me in the eye!" exclaims Navid. "Are you trying to hook up with my ex?"

Eyebrows shooting to his forehead, Liam pulls at his shirt. Adrianna slaps her own forehead. Dixon was obviously mad that she ditched him and told Navid. She didn't mean to hurt anybody, least of all a sweet guy like Dixon, or Navid who did so much for her, or Liam who she kinda might be feeling. Ugh. Boys suck.

"None of your business," says Liam, glaring at Navid.

"Excuse you?" says Navid.

"Excuse you right back," says Liam. "I do what I want."

"You selfish, condescending, less-muscles-than-Popeye sailor scumbag!" says Navid, then taking a deep breath.

"You can't even benchpress, man!" snaps Liam.

"Your bar sucks!" retorts Navid.

"Your iguana," says Liam calmly.

"Leave Bernstein out of this!" yells Navid. "Have you ever heard of the bro code?"

"We aren't brothers," says Liam. "Unless my dad knocked somebody else up. Did he?"

"The bro code means that you don't date your friend's ex," says Navid. "And I only have one hardcore ex so it shouldn't be that hard, himbo."

"You're pathetic," says a surfer, toasting to Navid.

"And you're with Silver," points out Liam. "So back off. Right, Adrianna?"

Adrianna could swear there's more sand in her mouth than on the beach. She can barely breathe, let alone talk. Why on earth is Navid so invested in her next relationship? Does he still care about her? She's the reason he's here, after all. Why is Liam being this aggressive? Does he just not care about how their friends feel?

"Ahh!" cries Adrianna, tossing her pony pencil, which winds up in a surfer's empty mug.

"Cool!" says the surfer. "Free pencil!"

"I'm sick of causing all this controversy!" cries Adrianna. "I just want to chillax, sing, and avoid bunions on my waitress adventures!"

She storms out of the Offshore, glad the ocean breeze is hitting her reddened face. Any quiet scene is paradise after that confrontation. It's not as comforting as the night when she and Liam were cleaning up under the stars but at least she can breathe. Adrianna puts her hands on her hips, almost jumps out of her skin when a finger touches her elbow. Is Liam hoping for a replay of that night too?

"Ade," says Navid, leaning towards her. "I'm sorry. When Dixon told me you were moving on, I...went mental."

His touch still sends chills everywhere, electric pulses faster than her own pulse.

"I can't see you with anybody else," continues Navid. "Especially not him."

"Why not?" asks Adrianna softly. "You're with Silver so why not?"

"For the same reason _you_ couldn't see _me _with Silver," replies Navid.

"We're different people than we were then, Navid," says Adrianna.

"Are we?" whispers Navid, slinking out her hairtie and letting her hair hang free.

"Navid," sighs Adrianna. "I kept wishing that you'd say that for months..."

"Liam doesn't deserve you," interrupts Navid. "He's the kind of guy Walt Disney based the Tramp dog after. He thinks a political party is when Obama has a birthday. He threw an acorn at a squirrel that tried to sniff Annie. Guy's a grade-A manslut."

Adrianna shakes her head. This isn't about them. This is about a competition. That's why he is slamming Liam so intensely. Rather than waste her months, like she wasted those napkins, she should've apologized to Navid and focused on herself. Well, this job was the first choice and she's making many more. But as much as she hates Navid's competitive nature, she was jealous herself earlier today and she can't throw stones.

"Look, Navid, this isn't you," says Adrianna. "You're the sweetest guy I've ever dated and despite what you say, you care about Liam...and Silver."

She says the last name secretly as if she can will the reality away. He hasn't split with Silver and that's a fact.

"Whatever," says Navid, eyes to the sand. "I don't like this. Please don't date him, Ade. Please."

Adrianna pats his chest fondly. "No promises."

Navid stays frozen on the beach. She wagers it's somebody else's turn to be lonely. The customers have already found new sources of entertainment by the time she reaches the bar. Their lives must be as enthralling as hers on a dramatic day. Liam's seated at the bar, revolving the mug...with a free pencil.

"I shouldn't have insulted his iguana," sighs Liam.

"Bernstein will forgive you," consoles Adrianna. "So will Navid. They're smart like that."

"Did he really compare me to Popeye?" says Liam.

"Yep, he did," says Adrianna. "What are you going to do about it? Eat spinach?"

They trade glances, and begin to laugh.

"I've totally embarrassed myself twice in front of my customers," says Liam, sliding away the mug.

"Me too," says Adrianna.

"That's why he said this bar sucks," kids Liam.

"Of course," says Adrianna. "And because...I sucked your face."

Liam smiles, which Adrianna will take any day over a smirk.

"We don't suck, though," affirms Liam.

Adrianna hops on the stool nearest his, and places a kiss firmly on his cheek. Liam's skin is as crimson as hers.

"Nope," agrees Adrianna. "Never."

III.

Brunch is full on. Chatty diners enter the too familiar restaurant as Naomi finds a parking space in the front. Toddlers hold their mother's hands. Nobody's here to hold her hand, including Max. Retirees, young families of four, genial businessmen, and rush-and-go singles rush into the establishment for a total meal or a quick cup of coffee. There's so many people milling around that Naomi tries to recall if it's a holiday weekend or not.

Nope. The air's simply new today, fresh. But the pressure is on for her, not them. She was taking a leap of faith meeting a man that detested her. Only encountering Guru Sona and Cannon were worse. Cannon was definitely the most horrifying. You'd figure Micah Miller would be a piece of cake after that. However, a lot of Micah's accusations contained pieces of what Naomi considered to be the truth. Try as she might, she's been unable to reach above a 3.0 on a report card. She has vague ideas about what she'd like to do after CU though nothing finite. Homecoming isn't too scholarly and is based on popularity. And yes, her relationship with Max altered a couple of his son's life decisions.

But Naomi would defend herself by saying that she was doing her best to show that those decisions weren't in vain. Max's GPA hadn't suffered. He got to be close to his family by sticking around. She tried to make the stressful patches of Max's life more light-hearted. Doesn't that count, because it's the truth too?

While the Country English restaurant remains large in her eyes, Naomi almost feels as if the walls are close to boxing her in when she's greeted by the waiter.

"Naomi Clark," says Naomi. "I'm here to meet Mr. Micah Miller."

"This way, please," says an auburn waitress who had to be around Naomi's age.

She escorts Naomi past the same slew of tables. Naomi's not taken to a private room this time, though. They halt at a table near a window. Micah sits there, wearing a tweed suit and black tie, leisurely perusing a newspaper. Naomi wore a gold, chiffon top and a black pencil skirt. It was sort of dressy but not so dressy that it would arouse any suspicion from Max.

"Naomi," regards Micah, closing the newspaper.

Naomi guesses she doesn't warrant a scenario where he stands up for her or delivers a courteous handshake.

"Good morning, Mr. Miller," says Naomi.

"Please be seated," says Micah.

Naomi sits across from him. He stares at her briefly, clears his throat.

"I was shocked that you called...," begins Naomi.

The waitress interrupts, pouring two glasses of pink lemonade from a pitcher.

"Ordered for you," says Micah. "I hope you don't mind."

"Lemonade's...lemonade's fine," replies Naomi nervously.

"Max likes it too," says Micah in a gentler tone that settles Naomi's stomach.

"Mmmm," says Naomi after tasting it. "No pulp and extra delicious."

"So in our last conversation...," starts Micah.

Here it comes. She was anticipating an apology, maybe only because Max walked out, but it would mean the world all the same. What comes post-apology is what she was anxious about.

"You asked me to give you a chance," continues Micah. "This is your chance. Let's talk, shall we?"

"About?" blanks Naomi.

"About how you're going to stop standing in my son's way," says Micah.

Okay, the worst apology ever? Naomi takes a longer sip. Suddenly, the liquid tastes tart, thick, and terrible. Naomi dots her lips with a napkin. Her eyes fall to her lap.

"I'm...I'm not breaking up with him," says Naomi, glancing at him occasionally.

"I wasn't going to ask that," insists Micah. "Cause he obviously won't. But you can be helpful for once and convince him to go to the golf invitational."

"Well, I don't know if...," says Naomi.

"You have some mystifying power over him," interjects Micah. "To the point where he would switch his future for you. That is not healthy. What's healthy is having options. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I mean, yeah, maybe," answers Naomi.

"You killed the dream my wife and I had for him," says Micah, folding his fingers together. "You owe us and you definitely owe him."

Naomi rocks in her seat, heat rising to every pore that covers her skin. Killed? She didn't hold a gun to Max's head or a knife to his heart. But from a parent's point of view, was that how it felt? She's not a parent so she can't say.

"What about Max's dream?" whispers Naomi, barely audible.

"That dream being you?" says Micah with a frown.

"No, Max's individual dream," says Naomi. "I'd...I'd be like an accessory to his dream. Supporting him. I don't care where he goes as long as he's happy."

"Precisely the problem," says Micah. "You don't care where he goes. Some of us do. If he never met you, where would he be?"

She lets her head fall again. Tears fall to her chiffon top, trickle along the folds.

"M.I.T.," admits Naomi softly.

"Not Berkeley, not Stanford, not UCLA," says Micah. "M.I.T. And where are we, Naomi? Hmmm. My son is in California and has disowned his family. We would've been closer if he'd gone to M.I.T. It doesn't take a knowledge of physics to know you set the CalTech ball in motion."

"I wasn't aware he disowned you guys," insists Naomi. "I thought you had a fight with him and..."

"He doesn't want to know me, Naomi," says Micah. "Now you know and can fix it. The invitational's at nine, lunch at one. I expect to see a caddy we _both know_ on the green."

Slamming his newspaper on the white tablecloth, Micah walks away and out of the restaurant. He couldn't have slammed that thing any harder, thinks Naomi. Did she really separate Max from the rest of the Millers? Hurricane Naomi, destroying everything, picking Max out of the rubble and carrying him to her bedroom. She truly thought Micah was the culprit. Even Max seemed to think so. Then, why does she entertain another thought, burying her head into the sand whenever Max mentions his family?

Naomi glances at the many brunch diners eating and laughing together. Two twin boys play tug-of-war with a plate of blueberry mini-muffins. A man feeds his girlfriend strudel. One father aids his daughter in making the letter S out of her hash browns. Naomi didn't have a single family moment similar to those before or after her parents divorced. There was always silent anger or sadness permeating their moments. That can't happen, not to Max.

"Max!" cries Naomi suddenly. "Breakfast!"

She tosses a few dollars on the table, praying Micah paid for his own bill. The waitress appears pleased with the tip which indicates that all is well. Naomi jumps into her car and floors it out of there. When she's at the mansion, Max is alone in the kitchen. Francois has lent him a chef hat. He's carefully turning over pancakes.

"Francois has the fire department on speed dial," jokes Max.

"Look at my sexy cook," compliments Naomi, walking in to plant a small kiss. "Your apron's on wrong."

"Dang it," says Max, glancing at his waist. "I knew something was off. Where'd you go?"

The invitational's tomorrow. She has to tell him before tomorrow. Naomi runs her hands through her hair.

"Tell you later," says Naomi. "Let's eat."

"Okay," says Max, sending a pancake into the air. "If it's nothing to get flipped out about."

IV.

"_Summer lovin' had me a blast, _" sings Adrianna, refilling a salt shaker. "_Summer lovin' happened so fast..._"

Liam smiles at Adrianna's back as he tallies the total for the day. Ignoring the fact that they'd had a couple blow-ups in the past several hours, they did well when it came right down to it. Cash is spilling out.

"The register's burping money," says Liam proudly to himself.

Actually, he has a couple other reasons to be proud. The Brianna plan went off without a hitch and he believes he came out the winner in the Liam vs. Navid tussle. He is disappointed that Dixon squealed and Navid reeled, but he's not disappointed that Adrianna yielded to whatever is going on with them. That kiss? Worth the aggravation of wondering if she felt the same way. When he called Brianna in for the bogus interview, he wasn't a hundred percent certain Ade would react. She did run out of the room the previous night when he said he liked her and he anticipated "the Navid factor." Judging by the wilting glances she gave Navid, she isn't over him and that's basically what he was afraid of. He hasn't completely scrubbed out Annie from his system either. But that's not to say they should stay home Saturday nights.

Walking to change the Open sign to Closed, Liam almost runs into Adrianna. Their chests are inches from each other, as close as they were in the supplies closet.

"Ummm," says Liam.

Adrianna grips the pouch of salt, stares at his eyes.

"Can you...get the pepper from the closet?" asks Adrianna.

"Got ya," says Liam, moving without another word.

He hears Adrianna sigh behind him, and then the door open and shut. Liam turns around.

"Serve me," says the new customer.

Whoa, it's the boy they saw twice, the boy who seemed like he'd rather have his tooth pulled than visit the Offshore.

"Closing time," says Liam, folding his arms.

"Liam!" says Adrianna. "We have to serve a kid. We have to teach him good manners."

The kid sniffles and hocks a loogie on the bar floor. Liam clicks his tongue. Why does he have to be a good example this late? To a kid that bugs him?

"Thanks, lady," says the boy. "Didn't you show your boobs to America once? My brother has a stack of magazines."

"Shut up!" says Liam, advancing to the boy.

Adrianna manages to hook Liam's arm and lead him to the bar. The boy claims a center table. He wears an ill-fitting lime-green shirt and jean shorts. He probably stole that shirt, wagers Liam.

"He's a baby," says Adrianna. "Plus he comes off as lonely. Don't you want people to hear how friendly we are to kids?"

"Let's put some sugar in his hand and send him off," suggests Liam.

"Liam!" chastises Adrianna. "Go take his order."

Shrugging, Liam rolls his eyes and goes to the boy's table. He starts kicking the main leg of the table, whistling until Liam's at his side.

"For kids, we've got root beer floats, sundaes, and fruit drinks," lists Liam unenthusiastically.

"I'll take a float, freak," says the boy. "There better be a good ice cream to root beer ratio. And a cherry on top. Or else I'll kick you in the shins."

"I can take you," says Liam.

"Liam!" whispers Adrianna fiercely, gesturing for him to meet her.

"After Navid, that kid is really bugging me," admits Liam when he reaches Adrianna. "Can you take him off my hands?"

"We'll have a thumb war to decide," says Adrianna.

They link hands, fingers interlocked, thumbs moving and moving while gazing at each other. Liam loses focus while looking into her mysterious emerald eyes. Adrianna wins.

"Sorry," says Adrianna, then disappearing into the supply closet.

Liam returns. The boy is chuckling, tearing a straw wrapper. He shoots a wrapper piece at Liam with his straw.

"If you're going to terrorize me, at least tell me your name," says Liam.

"Byron," shares the boy.

"Okay, Byron," says Liam, faking a smile. "Why are you pestering me every chance you get?"

"Why are you so moody and gruff all the time?" asks Byron. "No wonder you haven't asked her out yet."

"Asked who?" says Liam.

"Her," says Byron. "The brunette with the photographable boobs."

"Stop talking about her like that!" cries Liam. "And...how can I be sure she wants me to ask her out?"

"I saw you two through the door, genius," says Byron. "So many sparks I was close to releasing barf. You two act like you're ashamed to tongue."

"It..it's complicated," says Liam.

"I'll ask her out then," affirms Byron.

"To do what?" counters Liam. "Double dutch? Ride a pony? Color?"

"I haven't colored in years," says Byron. "When did you color last?"

Liam presses his lips firmly together. He colored in a banner for Marla's party, but that was like a year ago.

"That's what I thought," says Byron.

"Where would you take Adrianna?" throws back Liam.

"I'd take that girl out to a dinner and a movie," continues Byron. "Classic. Now go ask her out, chump, and bring me my float."

He can't believe this kid...has so much courage. At first, he was annoying. He's still annoying, but he is making sense. Besides a teasing barb, he hasn't officially asked Adrianna out yet. She provided the first kiss so the least he can do is ask for the first date. A dutiful Adrianna meets Liam near the closet.

"How's it going?" asks Adrianna.

"Speaking of going...," begins Liam.

Adrianna tightens her face in confusion, when her phone starts to buzz. Dumb technology ruining his confidence. Adrianna answers.

"Navid?" she says after a weighty silence.

Scooting past her, Liam shakes his head and shuts on the stereo system. Is Navid spying on them? Cause he couldn't have planned that any more perfectly.

_I can't get out of bed today_  
><em>Or get you off my mind<em>  
><em>I just can't seem to find a way<em>  
><em>To leave the love behind<em>

Adrianna indicates that she'd like the volume turned down. Nope. Liam's sure he is being immature but the other dude's not noble either.

_Every now and then_  
><em>When I'm all alone<em>  
><em>I be wishing you would call me on the telephone<em>  
><em>Say you want me back <em>  
><em>But you never do<em>  
><em>I feel like such a fool<em>  
><em>There's nothing I can do.<em>  
><em>I'm such a fool<em>  
><em>For you<em>

A pen hits Liam's knee. Liam picks up her pen and pretends to ignore Adrianna's very annoyed glare. Navid probably waited until closing time to call her, when he could have first crack at her.

_I can't take it_  
><em>What am I waiting for?<em>  
><em>My heart's still breaking<em>  
><em>I miss you even more<em>  
><em>And I can't fake it<em>  
><em>The way I could before<em>  
><em>I hate you but I love you<em>  
><em>I can't stop thinking of you<em>

_It's true _  
><em>I'm stuck on you<em>

Adrianna shoots a cold look at Liam before hurriedly leaving the bar. Liam lets his body sink against the bar. After that, his chance for a date has sunk too. He busies himself, washing out a mug, filling it with root beer and ice cream, wiping the excess off the glass. When he returns to Byron, the kid's gone. Why'd he disappear? Is he a ghost? No, realizes Liam. Ghosts don't leave cash. He sees a twenty-dollar bill under torn straw bits. A note accompanies the money.

_Take her out and treat her right, Grumpy. _Best, Byron. _P.S. __If you need errands done, I've got nothing better to do after school._

Liam smiles in spite of himself. He better order more straw wrappers.

V.

555-07...555-070...555-070...

He won't let his finger touch the 3. Max deletes all of the digits within the Miller residence's home phone number. Over the course of his life, he must've dialed it a thousand times with no problem. That was, of course, when they had no problems. Madison would answer with a distracted "hi." Her mind was already on the next thing. Max's mom would extend her greetings, ask callers how the children are if they had children. Micah answered with a quick and gruff "hello", and would droop his shoulders depending on if he liked the person or not. Max couldn't tell whether his father's shoulders would droop or not if he called these days.

Especially not tonight, thinks Max. Is this his best answer? Is it right that he's cutting his family off? Madison and his mother didn't do anything. Sure, they let Micah rant for an uncomfortable length of minutes last night but it must be tough to stand up against your husband and father. They were also pretty nice to Naomi during the calmer parts of the evening. Why punish three when one is the cause of the drama?

Max relaxes further into the couch. He was separated from Naomi, in a good way. She banned him from the backyard for an unknown activity Annie was helping with. He saw a large white box this afternoon but just as suddenly it went missing. Maybe it was a new bed, for him specifically. Although, he thought Naomi enjoyed his "under the sheets" company and whatever item they had was being talked about in the backyard. Max suspects the reveal is seconds away.

He's right on the mark. Annie and Naomi walk through the glass doors leading to the dipping pool. They're accompanied by Austin, and loud shouts echoing through the living room.

"Why are you so upset about Liam being into Adrianna?" exclaims Silver. "Calling five times on your cell!"

"He's going to pump her and dump her!" shouts Navid. "And wind up back with Annie. Look what happened with that jerk Ty."

Annie stiffens at the mention of Ty's name.

"Old wound," mentions Annie to Austin, her ever shirtless companion.

"What's that screaming in the backyard?" asks Max.

"Nothing," says Naomi. "Navid just found out Adrianna's libido is no longer out of order."

"Navid's...Navid's overreacting," waves off Annie. "Adrianna and Liam are only buds. I mean, Liam might still be carrying a torch for me but..."

Austin glances at her sharply but Annie's off in space somewhere. Max is so glad he doesn't keep up with the majority of these people's romances. The group's intersecting love lives are like one big confusing math problem. Max + Naomi = Satisfaction. That's all he cares about.

"If I called Dixon five times, would you be mad?" yells Silver who's out of view.

"No," replies Navid, finally sounding rational.

"Are you kidding me right now?" yells Silver.

Clearly tired of the argument, Naomi goes to close the patio door. She stops when Faulkner trots into the room and delivers a wallet to Naomi.

"Awww, Faulker's giving you a peace offering," says Annie sweetly. "He found Max's wallet."

"Uh, that isn't mine," notes Max, opening the compartments.

"Huh, isn't that yours, Austin?" asks Annie.

Annie walks over to examine the wallet. A condom drops to the floor.

"How'd that get in there?" asks Austin with non Oscar-worthy shock.

Gasping, Annie thrusts the wallet into Austin's gut and storms into the backyard. Max can only assume there's another fight to be had back there. Faulkner follows them. Max reclines on the couch, Naomi draping her body into his arms.

"If I called my third grade boyfriend, wouldn't you just die?" kids Naomi.

"Yes, yes," plays along Max, running his thumb along her arm. "Who would I share Hostess cupcakes with?"

"Max," says Naomi. "I have to share something with you."

She rises a bit, and Max thinks it may be serious if he's reading her face correctly. Don't let this be a break-up, moans Max inwardly. He can't lose anybody else. He wouldn't be able to function if that occured, never mind the third grade boyfriend.

"Go ahead," says Max carefully.

"I met your dad for coffee," says Naomi. "Well, we had lemonade, but we met. And maybe it wasn't the best idea but...oh, screw it. I didn't say I'd help him."

Naomi stands but Max leads her to the couch again.

"Naomi, what did he ask you to do?" questions Max.

Sighing, Naomi throws up her hands.

"Convince you to do the golf invitational thingie," replies Naomi. "And I only mention it because you deserve to be on good terms with your family and what if this one event convinces him that we're soulmates..."

"You think we're soulmates?" asks Max, grinning.

"You don't?" poses Naomi.

"I made pancakes for you," says Max. "That says it all."

Naomi chuckles, and then silent for a moment. She traces Max's chin.

"There's been a bunch of fighting, but at least your father's fighting to be with you," says Naomi. "Mine isn't. You don't have to go to M.I.T. You can just go golf to get on good terms with him."

"I was struggling not to call them today," confesses Max.

She cocks her head a little. "Come on."

"Where?" says Max, gladly situated on the couch.

"Come on!" insists Naomi, drawing him to the door.

Rather than a full-scale raucous, the backyard is empty. The four feuding parties had retired for the night or they'd gone somewhere else. Max is fine with the first or second option. But he's truly amazed as he takes in what stands near the dipping pool. The white box is open and dozens of colorful pieces fill a nearby patio table. A large image of an amusement park rests on an easel.

"Boys and their toys," says Naomi with a modest shrug.

"You didn't!" cries Max, walking to inspect what's on display. "You did!"

"I did," explains Naomi. "I went on eBay, found the '53 model of the amusement park Erector set, checked for quantity in the nearest California vintage toy store, and roped in Austin and Annie to deliver said merchandise. Meanwhile, you were watching the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy. I'd say I was the more productive partner today."

"Naomi, this is amazing!" praises Max, rushing to hug her tightly.

"You're welcome," sighs Naomi. "Can I help?"

Max releases her, squeezes her elbows. "You better."

They sit opposite each other. Max sifts through the pieces, wondering what his father should say about this scene. That he and Naomi make an excellent team. That she cares about the dreams he's drawn up for himself even if they seem fainter or more fun than Micah would like. That he's not going to stop and will finish his own dreams no matter what someone else thinks.

"I'm going to go tomorrow," announces Max.

"Oh," says Naomi, sounding somewhat relieved. "You ready?"

"Before today, I wasn't," says Max. "Tonight? I am."


End file.
